Marionette Strings
by Queen of Blue Hearts
Summary: While investigating the Noah's Ark Circus, Ciel and Sebastian find a rather interesting character whose story may be linked to more problems than they'd expected. Charlotte is the strangest creature either of them has ever encountered, with a myriad of secrets beneath that doll-like face, and she's just manipulated them into letting her live in the manor.
1. Chapter 1

**Charlotte White**

* * *

 _Humpty Dumpty lay in a beck._ _With all his sinews around his neck._ _Forty Doctors and forty wrights, C_ _ouldn't put Humpty Dumpty to rights_

 _-James Orchard Halliwell, circa 1857-_

* * *

Charlotte Élodie Madeleine White had a life that was easy by many standards of 19th century French society. At the age of twelve, she understood that there was a difference between herself and the servants who waited on her family. They were always sweaty and had dark purple circles under their eyes, while her face was pale and smooth from staying constantly in the shade. Their hands were grimy and calloused instead of satin-soft. Their clothes were grubby from cleaning and cooking, while hers were fashionable and pristine. Their hands and eyes were always fidgeting, while she had been taught from a young age to stand perfectly still with her back straight and her eyes lowered.

It was a time where children were expected to be seen, but not heard, so the young girl kept to herself. Charlotte was an only child, her mother having died of pregnancy complications two years after she was born, and her father rarely had time for her. Still there was no need to complain really. Her father was rich by most standards. He made his money in the trade and industrial business, and life was always comfortable for little Charlotte. By 17 she was the perfect little French lady; petite and blonde, quiet and subservient in appearance, clever enough to hold conversation, but smart enough to not upstage the men.

Charlotte sometimes wondered if she was more of an investment to her father, than a child.

Charlotte White did not have many friends. There were the children her age who often came to play, children of her father's friends and work partners, but not hers. Charlotte didn't like children her own age much, and she certainly did not like the boys her father kept introducing her to. They were all either pushy, loud, condescending liars to some degree, or complete cowards and wimps, but her opinion hardly mattered in the long run, and maybe that was why what happened had happened.

Yes, maybe if her father hadn't pushed so hard, then none of _this_ would have happened.

The young girl stared up at the rapidly darkening sky. Odd, it had been bright just a moment ago. She was aware of a distant wave of pain, and wanted to ask what was happening, but there seemed to be no air in her lungs. Her mouth tasted sweet and coppery. She wanted to cough, to call for someone, but she could hardly make a sound. She could hear voices. Someone screamed.

The sky was so dark now.

When she woke up again she was in utter darkness, pitch black silence like the inside of a tomb or a coffin. She wanted to scream, but somehow everything below her neck seemed to have just...stopped. She tried to move, to lift her fingers, but again there was nothing. It was like she didn't exist from the neck down.

Charlotte blinked, and tried to find it in herself to feel fear, horror, _something_ , but she couldn't. There was something terribly calming about the futility of it all. The idea of consciousness without a physical body. Maybe she was dead, and death was exactly as those non-believers she'd heard say: a barren nothingness where you just ceased to exist. No Heaven, no Hell, no nothing.

She closed her eyes again.

Time passed strangely in Death. When she awoke for the second time, there was orange light flickering at the corner of her eye, illuminating the room she was in. It was not a room she knew, but she knew what it was: a mortuary. Skeletal decor and actual skeletons filled the room, or at least what she could see of it. She blinked slowly, trying to find her bearings, and heard a low giggle from the corner of the room.

The shadows in the corner of the room shifted as the candles flickered, or something moved. Charlotte blinked slowly, staring up at the small bit of ceiling she could see. "How strange~" the voice from the shadows was lilting. "I didn't expect to have such a lovely specimen delivered to me. And one that's still alive~!"

 _Alive?_ So she hadn't died at all. That explained everything and nothing. Why couldn't she move?

"You were in a bad accident, miss~" the voice said, sounding amused rather than sympathetic. "I'm afraid your snapped your spine~"

Ah, that explained that. She blinked slowly again, wondering why her eyes seemed so awfully dry.

"It's a miracle that you're still alive, my dear~" the voice cooed, dripping with giddy amusement. "You've been broken so badly you look very much like a crushed spider~. But don't worry...~" the figure stepped out of the shadows and into her line of vision. He was abnormally pale, with a too-wide grin, and long grey fingernails. "I'm _certain_ I'll be able to put you back together again."


	2. II Shall We Visit the Circus?

**Shall We Visit the Circus?**

* * *

~O~

" _My dear boy, how did you enjoy your Christmas? My attempt to make a Christmas pudding with Phipps was a great success, and we received a lot of praise from John and Grey. It will give me great pleasure to see you try it._

 _Now, as to the enclosed tickets..."_

~O~

* * *

"It is very convenient that sir Randall is out today." Ciel paid little attention to the nervous please of man behind him, a subordinate to be sure, clearly not high enough up the corporate ladder to know who Ciel was or exactly what he did, and without the training or authority to actually throw them out.

"Please stop!" He begged again, arms half outstretched as though to herd Ciel away, although Sebastian had already breezed past him moments ago and was quietly scouring through pages of reports and evidence and making notes. "If the commissioner finds out-!"

"Then you had better make sure he doesn't," Ciel interrupted briskly.

"This is the 3rd floor building! How did you even get in here?!"

Ciel ignored his question, although he felt the wide open window was clue enough. "Well, Sebastian?" He called out to the man. "Have you found anything?"

The servant, although he didn't look much like one, rose to his feet smoothly, still flipping through one of the files. "So far, no bodies have been found that match those of the missing children," he reported.

The subordinate glanced between the two warily, still unsure of what to do. The Earl of Phantomhive was notorious amongst the London's police force and criminals. Rumours of his title and role filled the city's metaphorical sewers. _The Queen's Guard Dog_ ,but the boy was clearly a child, he couldn't only have been about 12, yet he held himself with a cold authority that would make more powerful men take notice.

Ciel sighed as though he'd expected that response, and then inclined his head. "We'll leave once you're done copying down the files," he decided. "And we might as well take the photographs with us as well."

"You can't do that!"

"If you're caught, just say I took them," Ciel tossed the words over his shoulder.

"That would just get me into _more_ trouble!" He took a step forward, but was halted in place by the manservant, Sebastian.

Ciel spoke casually as he went through the files Sebastian had copped down. "Listen, Underline was it?"

"Abberline!"

"Yes, yes, you've been a great help today," he hummed distractedly. "We appreciate your cooperation." He nodded without looking at him, and Abberline turned his attention to the manservant, who produced a handful of coins from somewhere on his person, and placed them in his palm.

Abberline hissed like he'd been burned, and shoved the money back at him. "I'm not for sale! I just want to do whatever it takes to bring them home!"

Done with his perusal, Ciel hummed at the man as he brushed past him. "' _Whatever it takes'_ , huh?" He repeated with a smile. "Very flexible of you. You have a rather bright future. Sebastian."

The officer bemusedly watched the two leave, and then realised that at some point the manservant had swapped out the large shillings for a damp mop. He whirled around to call after them, but Ciel only called back a parting, "Hurry up and get yourself promoted, Abberline," and then they were gone.

The streets of London were filled with the usual people. It was early afternoon, though the sky still hung dark and overcast as it usually was for most of the year, including the late spring. Ciel and Sebastian made their way back to the carriage, blending in quite well with the rest of London's typical muted colours, and greys and blacks. "It seems that they are still being treated as missing persons," Sebastian stated.

"By respectable society, perhaps," Ciel replied. He waited for Sebastian to open the door of the carriage before he climbed in. "But someone in the underworld society may have already disposed of them."

Sebastian took his seat across from the boy. "Will we be paying _him_ a visit then?"

Ciel grimaced at the thought, but nodded. "I'd really rather not, but it seems the situation requires it." A tap to the ceiling of the carriage, and it began the short journey to the famed mortuary, the _him_ of course being the mortician himself, whose name filled the dark blue and copper signboard above the door.

The shop was located in a quiet area, facing the street. Coffins and gravestones leaned against the outside walls, and the brown cracked stone was decorated with spider's webs and strange herbs strung together above the door.

For as long as Ciel had known the man and his shop, he had never seen another living human inside that had arrived there before him, so he didn't bother to knock and simply pushed the door open. "Undertaker, are you here?"

The shop was dark, lit only by the many candles that had been placed on nearly every conceivable surface, and cast eerie shadows on the floor and walls. Several of the candles formed a runway on the ground, leading into a darkness their light didn't seem to reach. The two took a step forward, and the door shut behind them.

High-pitched giggled filled the room, coming from the shadows. "Welcome my lord~" the voice greeted, sounding pleased. A human skull rolled out from the darkness, and Ciel jumped back, making a sound of shock as it rolled past his feet and knocked something over on the other side. The voice cackled, revealing itself to be a man in a long grey-black and a strange hat that covered most of his face, save for the wide grin of his mouth. "Did you finally decide to get into one of my special coffins?"

"Why, you-!"

He rose to his feet. "Now, now, won't you have a seat~? I have a batch of cookies I just baked from the oven~!"

The Undertaker was strange thing. Ciel had no idea who he was, and where he had come from, and he had tried to find out. The earl was fairly certain the cheery mortician was human, although he often gave off the aura of knowing more than he should. He was always laughing, and Ciel didn't trust a man that only showed one face.

They sat, using the coffins as seats. Undertaker listened to the story while munching on a biscuits shaped like bones, and drinking tea from a glass jar that smelled faintly of formaldehyde and dead people. "Children's bodies, hmm~?"

"Regular society regards them as missing," Sebastian explained.

"Well, dead children are an everyday affair in the underworld society~" Undertaker snickered as though he'd just recalled something funny, and chomped down on another biscuit. "I'm sure you know that well, my lord~. Why, just a few months ago I had a lovely case myself..."

The earl ignored the teasing jibe, interrupting the following story. "I've brought you their information," he said as Sebastian placed a sheaf of papers on the coffin-turned-desk in front of the mortician. "Did you 'take care' of any of these children?"

The mortician let his chin drop to the table with a quiet thump, still smiling. "Hmmm~, did I~?" He wondered, poking at the stack ineffectively with one sharp fingernail. "I feel like I may be able to remember if I saw something entertaining...~"

This was Ciel's least favourite part about visiting the mortician. His general eeriness aside, the man insisted on being paid in laughter, and not money. Legal tender, he claimed, held very little value to him, but a good joke was priceless.

It was annoying, but that was what he had Sebastian for. He turned to the manservant, only for the Undertaker's loud cackles to taper off into a tone of sly curiousity. "Oh~? You're relying on him~?" He snickered. "Aren't you able to do anything without your butler, earl?" Ciel gritted his teeth at the mocking undertone. The Undertaker shrugged helplessly, _what can you do?_ "Well, whatever, anyone entertaining enough will do~."

A trait usually seen in those born to English high society is a high degree of pride, and whether it was inherited or caused but his life experiences, Ciel had been born with quite a bit of it. Veiled insults and challenges did not sit right with him unless he won in some manner, which was why he promptly agreed to the Undertaker's challenge and kicked Sebastian out with the words:

" _Don't you DARE peek! THAT'S AN ORDER!_ "

* * *

~O~

* * *

They eventually got their answer, after five hours of nothing the Undertaker's shop rang with loud, cacophonous laughter, and Ciel himself looked as though he'd been put through the wringer, but they got the answer they'd wanted.

The only thing left now was to visit the circus for themselves.

The circus caravans had arrived sometime in the afternoon, and by night all of the brightly lit tents and stalls had been put up. The entrance proclaimed the name _Noah's Ark Circus_ in gold writing on a background of purple, bordered by iron curlicues _._ For all the stories and rumours following the circus itself, the compound was still filled with people and children chattering eagerly amongst themselves.

Each and every area was designed to draw your attention to it, whether with bright lights or miniature shows. Ciel caught sight of people in bright clothes and masks doing all manner of tricks, and handing out balloons. The air smelled cloyingly like candy and the people milling around, and in the middle of all of that was the big top itself, a large blue tent where the main circus act would be performed.

The inside was fairly elaborate, with gold chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, and a set that looked like it had been freshly painted and well taken care of. Maybe this was the norm for circuses, but Ciel wouldn't know that, he'd never been to one at all.

Moments later, the lights slowly began to dim one by one, ushering the beginning of the show. An expectant hush came over the crowd. From the ceiling, a single spotlight suddenly shone down on a man now standing in the middle of the ring.

The performer was dressed in the typical outlandish circus manner; he had orange, spiky hair, and wore a purple coat on his shoulders, a diamond checked waistcoat on a flouncy-looking shirt, and puffy trousers. In one hand, he held four coloured balls between his fingers, and in the other he held the same, but that hand was a skeleton prosthetic.

"Ladies and gentlemen! Boys and girls of all ages!" He bowed at the waist. "Welcome to the Noah's Ark Circus!" He straightened and began to juggle the balls skilfully while speaking. "My name is Joker. Pleased to meet 'ee. Now if you'll look here–whoops!"

As he spoke, he 'clumsily' lost control of the balls and they came falling down on his head, much to the amusement of the crowd, especially the children. The joker then opened his mouth to reveal a blue ball, which he then enclosed in his skeletal hand and 'vanished' out of sight entirely. The crowd clapped again, pleased with the little pre-show they had gotten.

The ringleader smiled and gestured dramatically. "Tonight," Joker continued. "You will see performances to stun and amaze 'ee!" At that moment, more spotlights came on, illuminating five other people, the main attractions. "And now, with a great broze from our fire-breathing Jumbo, the show of the century begins!"

With a roar, a large, tattooed man rose up and blew a plume of fire from a lit stick. The cheers grew louder and more excited as several of the lights came on again, and the circus officially began.

The acts were fairly standard, in Ciel's opinion. There was a trapeze act, performed by two artists with child-like appearances named Peter and Wendy. The second act was knife-throwing by a man called Dagger. The third was more interesting, featuring a snake dance performed by a half-naked man introduced simply as Snake. His skin seemed to glitter with scales like the reptiles coiled along his body.

"They don't seem to be forcing the children to perform," Sebastian noted at the end of the snake dance. The circus acts were drawing to a close, and there had yet to be any sign of a single child. None of the children in the audience had been singled out for participation either.

"Now, ladies and gentlemen," Joker gestured with his prosthetic hand to the ceiling. "Look above 'ee!" Their eyes went up at the same time to the length of rope strung tent high above their heads. "Behold, a death-defying tightrope walk by the circus princess, Doll!"

"If they didn't intend to force the children to perform," Ciel said, not looking away from the girl's perilous journey. "Then it be a coincidence that the disappearance of the children occurred along the circus route?" That seemed like an exceedingly large coincidence, but correlation did not always mean causation.

The audience _ooh_ -ed and _ah_ -ed as Doll performed splits and other feats of flexibility while balanced along the rope. Ciel could hardly pay attention to the rest of her act. "Now, prepare to be amazed and disturbed by our lovely contortionist, Ms. Muffet!"

A woman walked onto the sand, and Ciel regarded the ring with mild boredom. He blinked in surprise however, when Sebastian straightened and fixed his eyes on the woman. "Sebastian?" He whispered, half-stern, half-curious.

Ms. Muffet seemed perfectly normal as far as circuses went. She was a bit on the short size, and wore a scandalously fitted white and gold leotard, with large black diamonds going up the side, and a gold circus ruffle around her neck, wrists and waist. She had pale blonde hair that had been tied up with a peppermint-striped bow, leaving bangs to frame the sides of her face. She was fairly pretty, yes, but that was no reason for Sebastian to start so suddenly or stare so intently.

"Sebastian!" He hissed louder, but was again ignored. Down on the sand, the contortionist began her act. Ciel didn't know much about contortionism, but he was fairly certain that the human body was not supposed to bend quite like that, at least not without a fair bit of pain and damage.

She spelled the names of audience members with her body, and then performed a split. Then, while her legs were still in that position, lifted one up and up until it was behind her head. There were horrified and awestruck gasps from the audience, which turned to shrieks when she twisted her head 180 degrees to stare at the people behind her.

Ciel jerked back, for a moment, it had seemed as though she was staring right at him.

The woman dropped to her hands and feet, head still twisted and knees bent at an odd angle, and rushed the crowd, only to be stopped by a whip coiling around her leg. She temporarily collapsed to the ground like a puppet whose strings had been cut, before untwisting herself to make room for the final act.

Sebastian snapped back into focus once she was offstage, and Ciel wasted no time in berating him. "What was _that_ about?" He snapped.

The demon turned to him thoughtfully. "I noticed something strange about the performer."

"What?" The earl's eyes narrowed, and he looked to see if he could catch a glimpse of her, but she was already gone. "Was it something to do with the missing children?"

"It might," he replied. "I was scanning the tent for life, but no matter how much I stared at her, she wouldn't show up."

Ciel's eyes widened in shock. "You mean-?"

"Yes," the demon nodded. "Whatever that performer is, she's not really alive."

 **If you're curious as to how she moved, find that Attack on Titan gif of the titan crawling after Sasha. Now imagine that, but with a head that's been rotated the other way. Yes.**


	3. III Come Away Let's Join the Circus

**I own nothing other than Ms. Muffet (the character not the English rhyme wow disclaimers abound) so please enjoy!**

 **Come Away Let's Join the Circus**

* * *

~O~

 _We have to distrust each other. It's our only defense against betrayal._

 _-Tennessee Williams-_

~O~

* * *

They saw neither a hair nor ruffle of the contortionist after her show, and while Ciel was reluctant to deviate from their original plan, he did trust Sebastian's instincts, even if he didn't quite trust the demon itself.

He did wish the demon in question wasn't so distracted by anything remotely feline, but there wasn't much he could do about that particular flaw. Having his manservant get bitten on the face by a tiger named Betty wasn't quite how he pictured the evening going, but at the very least it gained him access into the backstage of The Noah's Ark Circus.

Backstage was as Sebastian had expected for a travelling circus: damp, dark, dirty, and crowded, as though all the lights and magic had been concentrated into the Big Top and the dregs left behind. He followed the orange-haired stage conductor, Joker, through the maze of boxes and patchwork tents – glancing away briefly to catch the suspicious glares of a few circus members – until they reached one that seemed cleaner and brighter than the others.

The inside of the tent was lit by several candle-lamps, and inside was the circus performer Dagger being patched up by another man – Sebastian noted that his leg was also a prosthetic. The man had messy black hair and a close cropped goatee; he had wide, kind eyes behind a pair of small circular glasses perched on sharp nose, and was seated in a simple but well-oiled wheelchair.

At the sound of new people, he'd turned around, though his surprise quickly morphed into a pleased smile when he spotted Joker. "Hello Joker! Is there something wrong with your arm again?"

Joker waved off the concern with a smile, and then gestured to Sebastian. "No, today's nothing t' do with me. I've come about him."

Dagger perked up and hopped down from the examination table. "It's you! You're the guy who got bitten by Betty!"

" _By Betty?!_ " The doctor yelped in horror, and unexpectedly grabbed his wrist. "That's awful! We need to get you medical assistance immediately!" He didn't feel bothered enough to tell them that everything was fine, that he wasn't hurt in the slightest.

Sebastian sat quietly as the doctor poked and prodded at his head and face, before pulling back with a befuddled expression. "Were you really bitten?" He wondered, lowering his stethoscope. " I don't see any markings."

"As I said, nothing to worry about," he smiled benignly. "It was just a play-bite."

Joker and Dagger echoed the words in confusion, but the doctor just smiled. "I'm just glad you weren't hurt."

"Too true," Joker heaved a sigh of relief as he came closer. "If I'd let a customer get hurt, the ringleader'd have my skin."

Sebastian turned to look at him. "You're not the ringleader?" He asked.

"I'm a bit like a hired shop manager," Joker laughed, resting his prosthetic hand on Dagger's shoulder. "The ringleader's a different scary guy!"

"If you say that now you'll be in trouble later, boss!" Dagger teased. As Sebastian considered this tidbit of the information, the entrance to the tent was pushed aside and a woman walked in.

"Doc, I need some help with – you!" Ah yes, the beast-tamer, the one Sebastian may have offended by ruining her performance. Her eyes widened in anger, and she stormed towards him, blazing past Dagger who'd dropped to his knees the second she'd entered the tent. "You're that dapper freak from earlier! What the hell are you doing here?! Thanks to you, my show was-!"

"That's enough Beast!" The doctor snapped, cutting her off. "You can't speak like that to a guest!"

"But he-!"

"If anything, this is your fault for not being able to control Betty! You're supposed to be a pro, aren't you?" Beast scowled but swallowed the rest of her angry words while Joker and Dagger hurried to appease the doctor. He took a calming breath, and let it out. "You'll be restraining Betty after this, am I clear? Now, what did you want me to look at?"

Sebastian watched in interest as the beast-tamer rolled down her tights to reveal a prosthetic limb much like the knife-thrower's. He learned that all the first-tier performers were missing a limb or some other body part, and that the doctor was the one who crafted the prosthetics and maintained them.

"They're made of ceramic, but I use special materials so they're light and sturdy," the doctor looked pleased with the interest being shown in his work, and invited Sebastian to have a closer look. "I use spherical joins for a smooth and easy movement."

"They're quite well made," Sebastian noted, going higher and higher up until, "Oh? What's this seal here?"

That is more or less when the general tone of the evening dropped exceedingly, but the demon was able to leave with the promise to return the very next day to try out for the circus.

As he was exiting the medical tent however, his foot collided with something on the ground. It was the contortionist, lying in the mud right outside the tent where she certainly hadn't been before.

He stared down at her for a moment. Her eyes were wide and unfocused, like glass, and her joints were bent in completely wrong directions. She didn't smell dead, she didn't smell alive, she just...was. Like a doll, or a puppet whose strings had gone slack. She certainly wasn't moving like she had been before.

As much as he wanted to pick her – or was she an it now? – up, he was still visible to the occupants of the tent. The contortionist was nowhere close to the age of any of the missing children, and the performance was most likely some elaborate circus trick, ergo this likely had nothing to do with the mission and he elected to put it out of his mind. At least, for now.

Using the simple but effective excuse of being lost, he began exploring more the backstage area of the circus, ignoring the wary eyes on him. They wanted him gone, but they certainly weren't going to come up and talk to him. The damp and dusty tents were unimportant, and neither were the wooden crates that had been left all over the place, piled one atop the other. He kept walking until he came to what looked like a small clearing, separated from the rest of the filth by a ribbon.

On the other side of the ribbon were five tents. Unlike the drab dirt-brown patchwork tents behind him, these were a pale lilac colour, and significantly larger and cleaner than the others. They probably belonged to the first-tier members of the circus, he decided, and he considered the merits of entering one that night, before something caught his eye.

It was the contortionist, again, sitting, propped up against a small wooden crate beside one of the tents just inside the border. Her eyes were still wide open and glassy, and her neck lolled eerily to the side. Something large and black coiled around her shoulders. He hopped over the divide and took a step forward, only to be stopped by a snake hissing violently just inches from his face.

On the other side of the dark and hissing creature was Snake staring at him blankly. "This area is off-limits, _says Wilde_." An orange and white snake on his shoulder hissed and pointed with its tail back where he'd come. "The exit's that way," he spoke in a totally different voice. " _Says Goethe._ "

Sebastian considered his options for a second, and then smiled beatifically. "You're too kind."

Snake watched the man in the black coat and strange eyes as he walked away. "Goodbye! _Says Goethe._ " He waited until the man was out of sight, until the snakes stopped hissing, and then turned back to Muffet. "Are you okay? _Says Wilde._ "

Her eyes fluttered briefly, losing their glassy expression. Her head tilted one way, then the other, and then she climbed to her feet, grimacing as her joints whirled and bent back to a more natural position. "I'm fine, Snake," she replied, reaching up to pet the snake coiled around her shoulders. "I don't think he suspects anything, but I did hear a rather interesting conversation..."

* * *

oOo

* * *

Ms. Muffet had lived at The Noah's Ark Circus for several months. She was well-liked by some, and largely ignored by others. Likewise, she enjoyed the company of some circus-fellows, her favourites being Snake and Beast, despised the attention of others, such as the doctor.

This was unfortunate, because he more than most requested to see her often, and spoke to her in a strange almost paternal manner, as though she was his little child project. He disgusted her on an almost visceral level that she couldn't quite explain and she didn't care quite enough to find out.

Violent hatred aside, Muffet couldn't quite place their newest to-be circus mates. There was the tall and handsome man dressed all in black with the strange eyes, and then the delicate-looking, vaguely androgynous little boy he'd brought with him. They were odd, and both spoke and carried themselves like nobility. As much as they claimed to be servants from a noble house, one didn't take on so many traits simply by hanging around the rich. The manservant she could understand, she'd had maids and servants before, but not the boy – what did he say his name was? Ah yes, Finnian.

She'd watched their trial from behind the crowd, a pink feather hat tipped over her face to hide her identity, and later from the dark inner corner of the tent. The boy was adorable, but it was clear he had no idea what he was doing, and would obviously rather be anywhere else, and the manservant just looked smug. Annoyingly smug. The kind of smug that would make a person irrationally angry just by looking at him for too long.

Muffet decided that she didn't like the manservant, but she did enjoy watching Finnian's tremulous but victorious march across the tightrope. It was always interesting to see how newbies fared on it.

As it was obvious to her what Joker's decision would be, she didn't stay 'til the end, and slipped out of the tent to find Snake. The charmer was sitting beside a cage that she knew was filled with live rats. He must have just fed the other snakes as the only one with him at the moment was Emily. "What happened? _Says Emily._ "

"He's going to recruit them," she replied, her hands going to her hips.

"Really? You don't sound happy about that. _Says Emily._ "

"I'm not," Muffet replied, pressing her lips together in consternation. "I don't trust either of them. There's something they're not being honest about, and while it's fine for them to not want to tell us certain things, there's still something wholly off about the two of them," she folded her arms across her chest. "I don't like this."

Emily tilted her dark copper head in concern, and hissed. "Do you want us to keep an eye on them? _Says Emily._ "

Muffet smiled and held out her gloved fingers for the snake to affectionately scent and bump her head against. "Yes please, just until we know what they're up to." A bell began to ring from the big top, and she lowered her hand. "That'll be Joker."

Snake rose and she hopped on his back, letting her body go lax and loose and wrapping her arms limply around his shoulders. Like always, she rubbed her forehead against the shimmery skin of his neck. "Thanks."

"No problem, _says Emily._ "

Joker was standing on a small white stand in the middle of the ring with the two newcomers, both now dressed in typical circus fashion, though the manservant's clothes were very similar to his usual outfit. "From today onwards, we have some new friends with us!" He waved to them. "This is Black, and the wee one is Smile!"

Muffet watched the proceedings curiously from behind seemingly unfocused eyes, and caught the moment the manservant noticed her. Had she a heart, it would surely have leaped with nerves, especially when he narrowed his eyes and stared at her. She did _not_ like the manservant.


	4. IV The Circus Has Many Secrets

**The Circus Has Many Secrets**

* * *

~O~

 _"God hath given you one face, and you make yourself another."_

 _-William Shakespeare, Hamlet-_

~O~

* * *

"There are some strange people joining this circus," Beast grumbled aloud. She shoved the sponge into soapy water she'd been using to wash Betty, and it sloshed over the edges of the bucket.

Muffet nodded sympathetically. Though she had heard the conversation the night before, she hadn't known what the manservant had actually done to anger Beast. The woman was very much like an older sister to Muffet, though her style of dress was rather far removed from her own, and as hot-headed as she was, she usually had good reasons to get angry.

Now she had a more concrete reason to dislike the black-coated man. A general air of distaste and mistrust was one thing, but one needed evidence before one could cast judgement, and now she had hers.

Joker had left with the new arrivals to show them around the camp, and she'd left Snake to tend to the rest of his snakes, or sleep, whichever one he preferred. Betty the tiger lazed quietly outside her cage while Beast soaped the dirt and grime from her coat. Every so often the large cat would snap idly at Muffet's fingers, never with any dangerous intent. Muffet wouldn't be able to feel if she did, but it would be awful if Betty had to be sold, or worse, put down. She already had to be caged because of the stupid stunt that manservant had played.

There was strike two apparently. "Are you performing with Snake tonight?" Beast asked, gently urging the large cat to roll over so she could reach her side.

Muffet nodded, scratching Betty behind the ears so that the large cat began to purr loudly. Combining her contortionism with Snake's act was something they did occasionally, and it usually involved bending herself into all manner of shapes and angles while the snakes crawled and slithered all over her as though she was a particularly strange tree.

One more splash of water, and then Beast waved Betty into her cage where the large cat yawned widely, curled up with her head between her paws, and settled down to nap. "Do you have anything to do?" Beast asked her. "I need to ask Joker something."

"I think he took the newcomers to the main tent," Muffet stood and dusted off the dirt from her tights. She considered the merits of following Beast into the main tent, which was where all the other non-first-tier circus performers were. "Can I ride on your back?" It wasn't as though she couldn't walk about by herself, but something made her want to hide that particular tidbit from the man in the black coat. They believed she was a doll, and the longer they did, the longer she could spy on them.

She wasn't quite sure what to make of the boy, other than that he was lying about being a servant. Muffet had been near nobility prior to the accident, and you didn't speak, walk, and act like that unless it had been ingrained in you from birth, and no one would do that for just any servant, ergo he was either a) a really favoured servant – in that case, why had he run away to the circus? Or b) actual nobility.

Ah, it was quite the mystery, she sighed into Beast's neck. "I don't know why you don't want to walk on your own," Beast was speaking to her. "Do the newcomers really freak you out that much?"

"They're suspicious," Muffet replied as they reached the open tent.

"Suspicious or not, I'm going to have to leave you here." There was a pink flush rising on the back of her neck. "I need to talk to Joker _privately._ "

"Oh, it's gonna be one of _those_ talks," Muffet snickered. "Fine, dump me anywhere in the tent. Snake should be coming along at some point."

Joker was indeed in the tent, and with the new performers as well. "Joker!" Beast called out, walking in. She spared the black-dressed manservant a quick grimace, and missed the interested look he directed at the doll on her back. "Got a minute? I need to talk to you."

Sebastian watched as the doll was placed on the ground, leaning against the wooden edge of the circus seats. It's head lolled to the side, eyes wide and unseeing. As soon as the two first-tier circus members left the tent, Joker with a parting "Work hard!", he walked over to it and crouched down in front of it.

Up close, it was lovely, truly a masterpiece of a creation. A Japanese ball-jointed doll, it was incredibly lifelike; with wide blue eyes, and silky pale blonde hair tied up in a bun atop its head. It was made of bone china, with smooth joints capable of 360 degree rotations in almost any direction. The fingers were delicate, smooth, and the creator had carved lovely little nails into each of them, which had been painted pale blue. The lips were painted pink, and she gazed up as though a kiss would turn her from her lifeless doll, into a human lady.

Therein lay the problem – it was a doll. Beautifully made, and incredibly lifelike, but a doll all the same. He'd asked Joker about the contortionist act from the night before, and the man had looked surprised, and then laughed. _"You haven't met our Muffet, have you? Don't worry, she'll meet you when she'd ready to."_

Sebastian cocked his head slightly, and noted that the doll hummed with energy, but no life. Maybe it was mechanical? The doll was likely something similar to a very large clockwork toy. He reached to pick her up, and was stopped by the voice of his young master.

"If you're quite done panting over that doll," Ciel snapped. "Can we focus on the task at hand?"

"It's the contortionist doll I spoke to you about," Sebastian replied, continuing to reach for her. He picked her up. "I was simply trying to see how it worked. It might be important."

Ciel arched an eyebrow, still mostly unimpressed. "So? What have you found?"

Though Muffet could maintain her dead-eyed, ordinary-doll façade for an indefinite amount of time (as long as she was permitted to blink), internally she was screaming. She hadn't expected the manservant to actually try to _pick her up._ The urge to squirm out of his hold was only tempered by the fact that she didn't want to give the game away. Up close he was scary. Not as scary as he had been last night, when she'd spotted him skulking around the tents, but she was attributing that to the late hour.

He looked interested by her. She'd seen that before. There had been newcomers before who'd seen her and tried to kiss her lips, because she was a doll, and while she couldn't exactly fault them for their assumptions, it did make her uncomfortable every time she was confronted with that.

He turned her this way and that, and apparently spotted the key sticking out from the back of her thigh, just above her socks. "It appears to be nothing more than a large Japanese ball-jointed doll, likely with some clockwork mechanics."

 _Close,_ she thought to herself. While all the circus members knew she could move and speak on her own, they too thought she was mechanical, that she needed to be wound up and let go. Only Snake and the doctor knew the truth.

"Clockwork, huh?" Now the younger boy looked interested. He probably thought she was some kind of massive toy. "If there's nothing to her than clockworks then put her down. She has nothing to do with the case." The manservant put her down with more care than she'd expected, even taking time to arrange the ruffles of her skirt. If she were she capable of it, Muffet was certain she would have blushed at the weirdly intimate treatment.

Neither of them did anything interesting for the better part of an hour. Not until the rest of the performers left, and then they began to talk quietly to each other, and that's when things got interesting.

"I can't believe the entrance to the first-tier tents is guarded by poisonous snakes," the boy muttered. "Not guard dogs, but guard vipers eh?" Muffet's mind raced. The private area? The first-tier tents? Were they thieves? In that case, this was the wrong place to rob, especially since they were nobility. Unless…they had come for something specific? This seemed likely considering their planning.

The manservant – the boy's manservant, she was sure of that – agreed. "I must say, young master – or, rather, Smile – your muscles are very tight."

"Keep your opinions to yourself!" Smile hissed back. "I suppose we'll have to rise to the first string to access the private area. A few poisonous snakes should be no challenge for you. We need to know whether the children are-"

"They're not here."

Muffet almost flinched in shock. _The children?_ She knew what they were talking about, of course she did. The trail of missing children that seemed to occur in every town, county and village that the circus visited. As much as she didn't want to believe it, Muffet knew that it had something to do with the other first-tier members.

These two, were they Yard? Since when did the Yard employ children? Vigilantes then? Rescuers? They didn't seem to be interested in attacking the circus, only in finding the children. In that case, they could be allies in a way.

She debated exposing herself to them, when the servant – Black – continued on, "I didn't sense them in the any of the tents or crates the night before or during today's tour."

 _Sense them?_ What was he, psychic? Was he one of those clairvoyant, fortune-telling weirdoes who claimed they could channel human energy and spirits? She grimaced internally. _Handsome and crazy,_ she thought. _It's probably best to stay put and here the end of their conversation._

The two moved into a different exercise. "Still, there's no proof that they _aren't_ involved in the disappearances either," Smile said. "We can't leave until we've thoroughly investigated them."

"Indeed," Black agreed. "After all, it possible that they aren't in a fit state for me to sense them."

Smile grunted. "Don't say such unlucky things. _She_ wishes for their safe return."

"Very good my lord, and while I don't sense the children, however…" Muffet almost jerked when he turned and stared right at her.

Before he could say what he had sensed though, Dagger appeared, distracting them. While their eyes were off her, Muffet's eyelids fluttered, which was her main way of expressing distress. "Hey, you two! Quit stretching and start practicing! It's your first day right? I'll coach you through practice then!" His eyes fell on her. "Ah, Muffet, who left you here? Guess your mechanics ran out again, huh?" _Oh thank goodness, cavalry._

"Mechanics?" Smile asked. Dagger nodded cheerily.

"Yep! I don't know how she works, but you'll have to ask the doc about that. Or Snake, since he's always with her. Anyway, first we need to decide what your acts will be! Any requests?"

"I'd prefer something much less physically demanding than the tightrope," Smile replied, looking harried and like he was remembering something very unpleasant. " _Greatly_ prefer."

Dagger laughingly told him that, yeah he did look pretty frail, so he would teach him about knife throwing instead. Then he turned to Black, who smiled beatifically and said that he had no particular preferences. "Yeah, you're a regular athlete!" It seemed that Black had been forgiven his transgressions from the night before. "Try whatever you think you can manage, and I'll watch!"

"Of course."

Muffet gazed up in wonder as the man performed all manner of flips, juggling, contortions – although she was jealously pleased that she could do far more since she was limited by things like _joints_ and _ligaments_ and _dislocating the bones in your back_ – before Dagger stopped him just as he was about to swallow a sword.

 _Handsome, and crazy, and apparently a five-star performer,_ she thought to herself. _Now why does that description sound oh so familiar?_ She turned her attention to another man balanced on the tightrope. He too was new, and was one of the weirdoes Beast had been talking about earlier. He'd arrived a few days ago, and claimed to be a civil servant or something, but he was incredibly serious and obsessed with the occult. _What is it with all these newcomers and that stuff?_

He also liked to carry around what looked like a modified scythe that could extend longer than she thought should be possible, and was also someone she'd done her best to avoid, which was made easier by the fact that he seemed to dislike being around her as well. Beast liked to joke that girls made him uncomfortable, even fake girls.

Dagger shouted to get the man's attention. "Come down here, Suit!"

Suit looked down, and then sighed. "Ah yes, I thought I'd sensed something foul. For goodness' sake…"

A second later, the sharp point of his scythe was embedded in the ground, just a foot away from the two. Clearly there was some bad blood there. Suit jumped down from the rope, using the extended staff as a means of descent, and then pointed the sharp part right at Black. "What prey are you hunting this time, you vile demon?"

 _Demon? Well that's a bit harsh…_ "Muffet!" She blinked and turned to see Snake beside her. With all eyes on the spectacle, she was free to move a little. "What's going on? Are you alright? _Says Wilde._ "

"I'm fine," she replied, and sighed with relief when she climbed on his back and settled there. "I think those two know each other. Suit just called Black a demon, and I think he meant it in a literal manner." Now he were bandying about terms like _reaper_ and _death_ , as though there wasn't a crowd of people watching them.

"Suit smells strange to me. _Says Wilde._ Black is also strange. _Says Goethe_." Muffet nodded. If the snakes were wary of him, then there had to be something off about him.

Nobody else seemed to share this sentiment, as Dagger walked right up to Suit and gently smacked him on the side of the head while laughing. "Cut it out, you plonker! You say your gags with such a straight face, people can't tell they're gags!" Everyone else joined in laughing, and Dagger jerked his thumb at Suit. "This guy's been cracking jokes since the first day he got here! Going on about souls and stuff! He's an incurable occult freak!"

Suit muttered something quietly, and stalked away after a parting retort that he refused to work with vermin. Slowly, everyone returned to what they were doing. Muffet lifted her head slightly, and watched Black and Suit antagonise each other. "Looks like the show's over. Let's go, I need to get my costume for the performance."

* * *

oOo

* * *

That night, Muffet crouched behind a crate and watched the other first-tier members run out into the night, as she had every time they moved. It didn't happen in every place, especially when the community in the area was small and intimate, but in a large town like this, little kids went missing all the time.

She'd never followed them, although sometimes the urge had grown so strong that she'd tail them for half a mile before giving up, and she knew why: she was scared.

Muffet didn't want it to be true, the idea that such deceit and immorality could exist in the hearts of people she considered to be the closest thing to family that she had. She was grateful that Snake was never among them. She wasn't sure she'd be able to take it if the snake charmer was somehow involved.

 _What were they doing to those children anyway?_ She thought. _Where were they being taken?_ Not here, that was for sure. She knew the ins and outs of the circus and she'd never seen hair of any child.

 _I should tell someone._ Muffet stood up and looked down at her hands. She rotated the joints and flexed them. Who could she tell? Suit was nuts, and even if all that talk of souls hadn't been a lie, he was cranky and scary. Black and Smile were less cranky, but Black unnerved her, and if Suit was right, he was literally a demon. Were those the kind of people she wanted to trust?

 _But they sounded like they were here to look for the children,_ she argued with herself. If there was anyone she could talk to, then it had to be them. This couldn't go on, she wouldn't be able to live with herself if she did.

The woman rubbed at her eyes. Her face and neck were the one part of her body that still retained any feeling. _One more night, and I couldn't do anything. God, please forgive me._


	5. V Have You Any Plans For the Evening?

**Have You Any Plans For the Evening, Said The Spider to the Dog**

* * *

~O~

 _Let me tell you, I am nobody's puppet_

 _-Nydia Velazquez-_

~O~

* * *

Muffet would have given her right arm to know all that had transpired during the conversation between Black and Suit. Well, it wasn't like that would have been any great sacrifice considering that she had many right arms, but the sentiment still stood.

Black and Smile had been in the circus for just over two days, and already the rumour mill was turning. Apparently Black was some kind of master chef who could turn ordinary food materials into haute cuisine. He was also impossibly talented, and he and Suit seemed to have a rivalry that crossed over the boundaries of plain animosity, right into pure hatred even though neither of them had known each other for very long.

There wasn't much on Smile however. Muffet gleaned what she could from Doll, but all she could tell was that he was small, didn't eat much, had little to no balance, and was almost pitiably weak. Muffet then wondered exactly how he'd managed to pass the entrance test so well, but her conclusions were either entirely improbable or impossible.

The night she met them – as a living, moving thing, rather than a doll – was during the night of the third show. Since they weren't first-tier members, they had no segments in the show, and had been put to work fetching and grabbing, and generally assisting the performing members of the troupe with their costumes and props.

Muffet noticed how Black paused when Snake walked into the tent with her on his back, but that wasn't unusual. Lots of the non-first-tier members liked to watch her being wound up and let go. The snake charmer didn't see him, and carefully sat her down on one of the empty stools in front of a cluttered mirror. Muffet sat perfectly still as he touched up her makeup and ribbons. He repainted the red diamonds underneath her eyes, tweaked the concertina around her neck, and then finally he lifted her leg and fiddled for the key behind her upper thigh, just above her socks. Everyone nearby seemed to hold their breath as turned the vestigial piece of metal, one, two, three–

" _Goooood_ evening everyone!" The voice that came out of the puppet's wide smile was high and cheery, like a stage-master trying to get their audience excited. It wasn't quite what Sebastian had expected. The puppet got to her feet, arms up like she was stretching out her joints, and her eyes landed on him. She grinned even wider. "Oh my, new workmates? It's _lovely_ to meet you!"

"Muffet, this is Black," Snake introduced them quietly. "And the other one is Smile. _Says Wilde._ " Ciel walked over, eying her warily but inquisitively. He wondered who had made her, and what they'd done to imbue a doll with this much autonomy.

Muffet turned her grin on him, and stuck out a hand. Ciel cautiously eyed the many joints of her fingers and wrist, before shaking her hand. Whoever had built her had definitely put a lot of effort into her appearance. Her hand was warmer than he'd expected, almost like a living thing. Someone called from outside the tent, "Snake, Muffet, you're on soon!"

"That's our cue!" She dropped Ciel's hand and turned to leave.

"It was nice to meet you," Sebastian said, smiling politely. Ciel shuddered when only the upper half of her body rotated around to face them, and she kept waving until she disappeared out of the tent. "That was fairly interesting, wouldn't you say?"

"Uncanny more like," Ciel muttered. He looked around and realised that the tent was now empty, apart from William who was arranging the costumes on one of the clothing racks. "That aside, Freckles isn't watching. Let's check the tents right now. We'll get it done in ten minutes."

"Yes, my lord."

Ciel peered out of the tent to make sure the coast was clear, and then they both began running in the direction of the first-tier tents. However, before they could take more than a few steps, they were stopped by Joker's voice behind them. "Black!" The stagemaster ran up to them, Wendy on his back and Peter beside him. "We've got trouble! Old Wendy's twisted 'er ankle!" They drew to a stop in front of Ciel and Sebastian, the former cursing internally. "The show's already on so I need 'ee to take 'er place!"

Ciel gritted his teeth as Sebastian tried to wrangle himself out of this sudden obligation, and silently cursed the demon for not laying low during the practices, but there was no helping it. "Nothing for it, I'm afraid," Sebastian said as the three circus members disappeared around a corner. "We'll have to find another chance, young master. Young master?"

"We don't know when another chance will come. This may be the only time he's not with me." Ciel thought to himself. "You may be in the show, but I have some time. The only problem is the snakes." There was a show itinerary hanging outside the tent, and he considered it for a second. "Right, come with me."

Muffet always enjoyed when she and Snake combined acts, and it was always a hit with the audience. People enjoy seeing things that are strange and disturbing, and are always fascinated by the macabre – late Victorian people even more so than the normal.

Their act began with her standing in the centre of the stage, Snake off to the side with a crate at his feet. He would remove the cover of the box, revealing the dark, writhing mass to the delightedly horrified gasps of the audience. Then, Muffet would hold out an arm and he would place a snake on it, then another, and another, until she was balanced on one leg, her legs, arms, and torso bent unnaturally, and entirely covered in snakes. It was always a crowd-pleaser.

After walking off the stage to the applause of the audience, she stood in the corner to watch Beast's act and cheer her on. Betty had been in lower spirits all day from being confined to her cage, and was absolutely relishing the freedom of the tent. She leaped through the fiery rings and roared loudly, spurring the audience to squeal and cheer.

About three-quarters of the way through Beast's show, Muffet spotted Joker speaking in hushed tones to Wendy, who was sitting on a crate. One of her boots was off, and she deduced that Wendy had hurt her ankle. Muffet rotated her own ankle 360 degrees sympathetically.

As Joker carried Wendy off to the sickbay, Peter at his heels, she cocked her head in Snake's direction. "I wonder who he'll get to take their place. They're on in less than an hour."

"One of the promising lower-tier members, definitely. _Says Emily,_ " Snake said. Wilde stretched out and coiled around her neck like a scarf. "Like Suit and Black. _Says Wilde._ "

That seemed likely. Seeing that Beast's show was wrapping up, Muffet decided to take a walk. She liked the circus when it was quiet, the majority of activity confined to the Big Top. Snake wanted to stay back to watch the rest of the show, so Muffet left on her own, Wilde sapping the warmth from her. She hummed as she strolled towards the snake tent. Beside it was the tent she shared with Snake. The former functioned entirely as a place to keep the snakes. The other was mostly bare, save for a few souvenirs she'd picked up on their travels, but there was a bed in it for them to share. While Joker, Wendy, and Peter liked to tease them about their relationship, Muffet and Snake considered themselves best friends. Siblings even.

When she pushed the door of the tent aside, she almost screamed in shock. Wilde let out a violent hiss. The snakes were all tied up into knots, and were squirming in pain, hissing loudly, unable to move. What had happened to them?

Her first instinct was to untie them all, but then she realised: whoever had done this might still be there. The snakes functioned as a sort of guard for the first-tier tents.

"I'll be right back," she said quietly, and she drew the tent door shut. Wilde hissed by her ear. "Yes, we are going to look for who did this." Full disclosure though, she couldn't _actually_ understand the snakes the way Snake did, but she had spent a lot of time around them and liked to pretend that she could. They didn't mind when she made guesses.

She peered into their tent, and found it empty and untouched. When she stepped out again though, she spotted a shadow moving in the corner of her eye. It disappeared into Doll's tent. Muffet hid in the shadows and waited for it to reappear again. She expected it to be some nameless lower-tier member, she did _not_ expect to see Smile slinking out again. _What is he doing?_

 _Is he searching for the children?_

Overcome with curiousity, she followed him as he entered the tents one by one, until only Beast and Joker's were left and he slipped into Beast's. She grimaced at the thought of him picking through a woman's belongings. Wilde hissed quietly, and she hummed in response and settled back into the shadows to wait for him to step out again.

Ciel was thoroughly uncomfortable with his surroundings. From the dark pink lights, to the gaudy jewellery, lacy garments, and pervasive smell of perfume, the tent screamed sensuality and femininity. Wanting to be out as quickly as possible, he scanned the room for anything worth searching. The bed and chairs were covered in clothes, and the only table in the room was a small makeup table covered in foundation, lipsticks of various colours, and a plethora of other instruments.

He turned around, and immediately spotted a large chest to the side of the room. Ciel hurried over to it and pushed the cover open, trying very hard not to think of what he was doing. After a few moments, he pulled out a picture set in a frame. In the picture was Beast as she must have been when she was a child, several years ago. Standing beside her was a round man with a kind, almost grandfatherly expression. It was the same man Ciel had seen in the picture he'd found in another tent.

He studied the picture, trying to pick up clues. _The building behind them is a workhouse_ , he noted. _An orphanage?_ He recalled Joker commenting that all the first-tier members came from the same place, which must have been there. Had this man adopted them then? Who was he? "Where is this place then?" He mumbled to himself, ducking back into the chest with renewed vigour. "I need a better shot of it-!"

Just then, something tipped him bodily into the chest, hopped in after him, and yanked it shut. Ciel didn't need to be told who it was. It happened just in the nick of time though, he could hear the tent curtain swishing open. Beast must have returned early. He would have been more grateful to Sebastian if he wasn't certain there was a bra in his face. The smell of women's perfume was overwhelming.

Beast paced around the room for a bit, muttering to herself. "This is so irritating." She was looking for something, and coming closer to the chest. Sebastian carefully pushed the top open just enough to let a dress dangle out, and Ciel's face flamed as he got an eyeful through the narrow crack.

The door swished open again, and the two heard Muffet's voice. "Beast! Your show was wonderful as always!"

"Thank you, Muffet. Are you going back to the tent?"

"In a minute, I think I forgot one of my hair pieces in your tent the last time I was here."

"Alright, I'll see you later then."

The tent swished open and shut, and Sebastian heard the sound of Beast's heels moving further and further away. He could also hear Muffet rummaging around Beast's bed. Finally she heaved a sigh. "Look, I know you're in here so there's no point hiding. You might as well come out."

Bra and perfume forgotten, Ciel glanced at Sebastian. He debated calling her bluff, then realised that there was a limited number of places they could be hidden anyway. If she looked, it wouldn't take long to find them, and it would be far more embarrassing. He nodded to Sebastian.

Muffet glowered at the chest when it opened. "Honestly, what were you doing in here Smile and…Black?" She blinked, confused by his presence. She hadn't seen him enter the tent. "Well you're a surprise."

Ciel eyed her warily. "What do you want?"

She shrugged. "Lots of things, really. Good food, good friends, to not have a pair of high-class vigilantes snooping through my friend's things. I mean," she blinked at them stoically. "Unless you're from the Yard, and I doubt the Yard's started hiring little kids, so you're probably vigilantes of some sort. I know you're nobles because this one," she tilted her head in Ciel's direction. "Talks like a little lord, and couldn't act poor to save his life. So, are you here to look for the disappearing children? Did you know one of them or something?"

She was almost right on the mark. Ciel gritted his teeth, thinking quickly. "Sebastian, restrain her!"

"Oh, you don't want to do that," she grinned at them. "What if I scream? Beast hasn't gone far you know, and Snake's on his way. you won't be able to restrain me for long. Besides," she held up her hands. "I'm here to help."

"…you are?" The words were said in a doubtful tone. Muffet nodded. "Your maker?"

"My _'maker'_ ," she imbued the word with copious sarcasm, "isn't here. I don't report to anyone. I'm helping you because I _want_ to help you."

Ciel glanced at Sebastian, and the demon shook his head minutely. He couldn't tell if she was lying or not, he couldn't read her nor could he hear her heartbeat. No help for it then. Ciel sighed and nodded. "Fine, but you have to promise not to tell any of the other first-tier members."

She drew an X on her chest, smirking cheekily. "Cross my heart and hope to die. Have you found anything interesting then?"

"These photographs," Ciel held them up, and Muffet and Sebastian bent close to study the sepia-toned images.

"You think they may be important?" Sebastian asked.

"Yes. Do you notice anything strange about them? What about the man in them, do you know who he is?"

"I don't know who he is," Sebastian said. "But I have seen the imprint from this signet ring somewhere."

"Was it on the one of the prosthetics?" Muffet asked. He nodded, turning to her curiously. "That's the man who pays for them to be made. The firs-tier members call him Father. I don't know his name though." Beast hadn't told her, and she hadn't been interested enough to ask.

Ciel grunted with irritation. "Well that's no help."

Muffet appraised him drily. "Smile, I'm going to assume your name was Joker's idea of an ironic joke."

There was a click as Sebastian checked the time on his watch. "It's almost time. We should stop here for now. I must free the snakes before the encore."

"I still have Joker's tent left," Ciel waved him off. "I should be fine if I work through the encore. Sebastian, once the encore is over get back here before they do and release the snakes. For now, both of you should leave."

Muffet snorted and folded her arms across her chest. "That's cute kid; you think you can give me orders. Fine then, as long as the snakes are released."

Pouring on the charm a bit, Sebastian pushed the tent door aside and gestured for her to exit first. "Shall we?"

Scowling, Muffet eyed him up and down with an expression of absolute disdain. "I'm not going to like you, am I?"


	6. VI The Gears of This Machine Are Turning

**How are we all feeling about Muffet? Is she cool yet? If your answer was yes then hold onto your hats because we haven't even gotten to the fun parts yet! I mean, not this chapter, but we're getting there. My baby is gonna fuck shit up!**

 **The Gears of This Machine Are Turning**

* * *

~O~

 _One must be cunning and wicked in this world_

 _-Leo Tolstoy_

~O~

* * *

The first thing Muffet did upon reaching the tent and ditching Black was tell Snake all about her little adventure – leaving out the part about them searching for the man in the photograph. Yes she had promised not to say anything to anyone, but in her defence Muffet didn't actually have a heart to swear on. Not to mention that, if they both even had a semblance of wisdom, they'd expect her to have told _someone_. Like her ' _creator'_ , she still snickered at that. After the encore, she decided to forgo riding on Snake's back, and instead hooked their arms together cheerily. "Will they cause any trouble? _Says Emily._ The one in black smells off, _says Oscar._ "

"I think he tied up all the snakes in the spare tent and somehow managed to not get bitten," Muffet said, thinking quietly to herself. He couldn't be a snake charmer; no one could take on that many unknown snakes without getting hurt. At least one of them would be confused by the strange scent and attack.

Snake tensed at the thought of his snakes being hurt. "Are they alright? _Says Emily._ "

"Yes, they're all fine. At least they should be." He had promised to untie them all, although she wasn't quite sure how he planned to do that. "If they're not, I promise to kick him in the head; and you know how hard I can kick." Though he didn't laugh, Muffet saw the stiff line of shoulders relax minutely. Snake took the bone-china hand of the arm closest to him, and began to fiddle with her fingers as they walked.

"Oi, lovebirds!" Dagger called to them. "Quit hanging back and go get changed! Dinner's waiting!"

"Don't be an ass, Dagger," Muffet yelled back, and then she blinked when Doll stopped in front of them holding something in her hand. Whatever it was, it had Dagger spooked, which was always a good thing. Muffet grinned widely. "Hi Doll! Whatcha got there?"

In response, Doll held up a black and orange snake. "This was loose outside the tents. I don't want a careless step to kill me."

"Aw, Wilde!" Muffet cooed at the snake as it coiled docilely around her shoulders. "You slipped off, didn't you? Find anything interesting?" The snake hissed in her ear, and she glanced at Snake. His expression didn't change. "Thanks Doll!"

Dagger groaned. "Please keep 'em shut up! See you later!" The three of them headed towards the changing tents, but Muffet swivelled her head around to see Doll ducking behind the crates and pulled out a very confused and unbalanced Smile. So he hadn't managed to escape before the first-tier members returned. Honestly, he was awful at this sneaking around business.

Dagger glanced in her direction, and squeaked when he saw her with her head the wrong way round. "Don't do that, Muffet! You know if freaks me out!" He complained. "What are you even looking at?" The knife thrower turned around but the two were already gone.

"Oh nothing," Muffet's grin hadn't left her face, and it only grew wider. She liked scaring Dagger, mostly because he was very easy to scare. "Just testing my joints. Say, where's Black's tent?"

* * *

Ciel stumbled into Sebastian's shared tent, half out of breath from running and avoiding the first-stringers. The demon looked up when he did. "You bastard," Ciel panted, "you knew I was still there when you freed the snakes, didn't you?"

Sebastian smiled beatifically. "Yes I did," he raised his hand to his chest, the very mocking picture of dutiful butler. "You did order me to return before the first-stringers and release them. Problem? What are you glaring for? Rest assured, my lord, I won't let you die while our contract holds. However, you may encounter some non-fatal suffering if you give the wrong orders. You knew as much. Every game needs its thrill," the demon smirked cruelly. "You're such an avid player, I assumed you shared my opinion."

The young boy gave a sharp bark of laughter. "Your game is in sickeningly bad taste, demon."

At this, Sebastian smiled, and it was almost as if the cruel beast had never reared its head. "You flatter me."

Ciel sighed and walked into the tent. It was cold outside, and his throat and chest hurt; likely from all the running. "Never mind that," he grumbled, "I found a letter in Joker's tent that mentioned my name. it had my rank, the location of my estate, and even a biographical sketch. The sender-"

"You there!"

"Ouch!" Ciel jumped back as the sharp blades of the scythe jabbed at his foot. Suit tapped the shallow line that separated the tent into two distinct regions.

"You're three centimetres into my territory," he informed curtly, then adjusted his glasses and glared at Ciel. "If the master cannot abide by our agreed-upon boundaries, he's as bad as his dog."

Ciel stared at the reaper, briefly wondering how someone could be so anal about anything, and then he exhaled loudly. The exhale turned into a cough. "Come on Sebastian, let's go outside."

"Certainly."

It felt colder outside than it had before, and the young boy hugged himself tighter even as he tried not to shiver. It was rarely ever a good thing to show weakness in front of one's servants, especially if that servant was a demon. Ciel coughed into his hand and grimaced. "The sender used the name 'Tom, the piper's son'."

"A Mother Goose character," Sebastian commented, recalling the tune that had been playing on their first day.

"Yes, though I don't know why." Ciel coughed again. It was getting harder to breathe in the cold night air. "The sealing wax showed a crest with a horse and the initial K." The same as the one Sebastian had seen on Beast's leg joint, and in the photograph.

The man nodded thoughtfully. "Signet rings are generally engraved with a motif and an initial that represent the bearer or the family. Which means that 'Tom the piper's son' has a coat of arms featuring a horse. Would a horse mean someone awarded a knighthood, or perhaps a soldier?"

The boy coughed again. "Not necessarily, but philanthropy is probably impossible without some degree of status." Another cough. His vision dulled faintly at the edges, but he shrugged it off. They were close to discovering something important. He stifled the next cough. "The heraldic authorities have all coats of arms in their registers. We have enough criteria to narrow it down so that however many they have-" here he interrupted himself with a hacking cough, "- _you_ should be able to find the one."

Sebastian's eyes narrowed. Something was very wrong; the young master wasn't breathing right. He didn't sound like he had a cold though. The young boy took another deep breath; then he froze and then fell to his knees, hacking up a copious mouthful of thick mucus and saliva. "Young master!"

The last thing Ciel saw before passing out completely, was Sebastian's uncharacteristically worried expression, and Freckles calling out for him.

* * *

oOo

* * *

Muffet absolutely _hated_ the doctor. She hated him so much that, were there not a lot of witnesses in the circus, she would probably have bludgeoned him to death by now. Knives were great and all, but sometimes a lady just wants the satisfaction that only wielding a heavy, blunt-force weapon can give you.

Anyway, she hated the doctor, which was why it was a testament to just how interested she was in Black and Smile that she was currently standing in the medical tent staring at the asthmatic little boy while bluntly ignoring the occasional creepy looks she was getting from the doctor. She'd been following Smile since he and Doll had separated, and had been there when the kid had collapsed in a puddle of what looked like mucus; she had then hopped off the top of the tent and pretended to pop round to the tent at the moment the doctor had declared that Smile was asthmatic.

"Asthma?" Black repeated, sounding genuinely worried, and nothing like the scary man that had let out snakes in the vicinity of a young child. "We've lived together three years, and I've never seen him have a fit like this."

The doctor consulted his notepad on the nearby table. "If he hasn't had a fit in three years, he may essentially be cured," he said. "But when patients are exposed to abrupt stress or chill, or if they catch a cold, they sometimes relapse."

"But he's caught colds before…" Muffet eyed Black out of the corner of her eyes, and wondered just what sort of game was being played.

"There were probably multiple triggers this time," the doctor explained. "And I hear he took a bath with our weight-lifting addicts? It's no wonder he caught a cold." Doll winced and looked away; clearly ashamed at the part she had unwittingly played in causing all of this.

The covers of the bed rustled, and Smile's eyes opened just a crack. "Wa…ter…" he croaked painfully, and Black hurried to his side with the little teapot full of water. The cool liquid poured into his mouth, aggravating his throat slightly. Once he'd drank as much as he could manage, Ciel fell back onto the bed, his breaths coming in shallow but laboured puffs.

The doctor leaned closer, and in the corner, Muffet made a face. "Smile, did you have a bad case of asthma as a young boy?" But Smile only stared up at the two men, eyes blurry and unseeing. He mumbled something nonsensical, a name, and then lapsed back into unconsciousness. The doctor sighed worriedly. "This is no good. His mind is muddled. We'll have to keep a sharp watch until the fever and coughing stop."

"I'll go get ice!" Doll ran from the tent, her eagerness to help any way she could born mainly from her guilt.

The doctor glanced at Sebastian. "What about you?"

"I'd like to stay and help in any way I can."

"Much obliged," he then turned to Muffet and smiled invitingly. It was the kind of smile he gave the other circus members to get him to trust him, but she knew there was something wrong about him, something sick and depraved and she did not wish to get involved with that. "And you, Ms. Muffet? Will you finally let me take a look at your joints?"

The puppet stared at him with barely hidden dislike, and narrowed her eyes. "I've said it before, and I'll say it again: you can look at my joints the day you manage to pry them off my body. Goodnight." With that, she pushed herself off the wall and walked out of the tent. Her bad mood dissipated once she was outside, and Muffet stretched joints she never needed to. This had been another interesting night, and the doll grinned widely at the night sky. She loved when things got interesting.

She caught Snake on his way to his tent, and cocked her head to the side. "Where have you been? Something exciting just happened."

The orange-copper snake around his shoulder hissed. "We were reporting to Joker, _says Wordsworth_ ," Snake replied. "What happened? _Says Emily._ "

Muffet hummed thoughtfully for a second. If she told Snake all that she'd overheard from Black and Smile, he'd report to Joker as well. Unlike Muffet the snake-charmer was loyal to the circus members, and asking him to keep a secret would cause him to regard her with suspicion, and she didn't want that. Not only did she actually like Snake, but it might mean ending things early, and not saving the children.

"Muffet? _Says Emily._ " The woman smiled as the red and black snake left Snake's shoulders and coiled around her own.

She smiled fondly at the black eyes and flickering tongue, and then she shrugged. "You'll probably hear all about this tomorrow, but it looks like Smile's got asthma. He's with the doctor right now."

"Asthma? _Says Wordsworth,_ " sounding faintly surprised in his gruff way.

She nodded. "Yeah, it looks like Doll accidentally spilled water on him this morning, and it's nearly wintertime. With all the snooping he did tonight, it's no wonder he got sick. Black's taking care of him."

Snake tilted his head to the side. "Does that mean they won't be doing anything suspicious for now? _Says Wordsworth._ "

"Who knows? Anyway, we should go to bed, it's getting late. Oh, by the way, have you seen Beast?"

* * *

oOo

* * *

Sebastian patted the forehead of his young master with the damp rag left behind by the doctor. There was a bowl of cold water by his side, with fresh ice chips floating inside courtesy of Doll. Guilt was a hilariously human emotion, but it was a wonderful source of manipulation, and he wondered why more humans didn't utilise it more often.

His thoughts drifted to the doll-like creature, Ms. Muffet. He disliked that he couldn't sense her like he could sense any other living human. It was the reason why when he'd flown into the tent to hide Ciel from Beast, he hadn't realised she was right there in the shadows. He idly wondered who had made her, and why. It likely wasn't the doctor, she wouldn't hold him in such contempt if it was, and she'd at least have to visit him for check-ups. Not to mention there was something incredibly familiar about her…

There was motion from the body on the bed. The demon stared down at the pale face of his young master, and frowned when the boy began to cough again. Slowly, his eyes began to open. "S-Sebastian…"

At that moment, the entrance to the tent swung open. Sebastian stood up as the doctor rolled in. "How is he?" The man asked concernedly.

"He still seems poorly off," he reported dutifully. Humans were ridiculously fragile, and children were even more so.

"I thought as much," the doctor tutted, and wheeled himself over to a small chest of drawers."I just remembered that mint oil can help these fits…where did I put it…?" He began rummaging through the many bottles and vials there were apparently inside the shelves. Sebastian glanced back at Ciel, and was mildly surprised to see the young boy gesturing for him to come closer.

 _This is an order,_ he tapped onto Sebastian's outstretched palm, out of sight of the doctor. _Go to the heraldic authorities and identify the man with the signet ring. The registers are in London and Edinburgh. If I move now, the doctor will make a fuss. Come fetch me in the morning._

The demon smirked and signed back, _yes my lord._ Finally, something to do.

He stepped out into the night air, noting the time. It was late, everyone should be asleep by now, and the puppet should have been powered down and put away at this time. He spoke mostly to himself, "I'll start with the closest-!" Suddenly, a sharp blade shot out of the darkness, forcing him back. Sebastian glared at the intruder with irritation. "You again? Well this won't do."

William stepped out, grimacing disdainfully at the creature before him, and clad in blue and white striped pyjamas. "Where are you going at this time of the night?" He asked, sliding his glasses up his nose. "I believe I told you not to wander about without your master."

"My master is indisposed at the moment, so I must do his errands." Sebastian straightened, smiling at the reaper though there was nothing friendly about it.

"Return to the tent at once," Suit snapped. "I cannot allow you to act independently." He began slicing at Sebastian, the body of his scythe shooting out and retracting quickly. "Small mistakes can lead to extreme overtime, you see." The scythe shot out again, and the reaper's eyes widened as the demon caught the blades in his gloved hands, preventing him from retracting it.

Sebastian inclined his head to the side, the perfect butler. "My apologies, but I have my duties as a butler," he said. "I cannot allow you to disturb my master's sleep, and you don't really want to cause a scene here, do you? How about you and I make a deal? If you grant me one hour of freedom, I'll swear never to eat a soul in your territory again. Just one hour."

"No thank you," William replied immediately, brows flattening. "Seducing your prey into darkness with sweet words," he yanked the blade out of Sebastian's grip, and whipped it to his side hard enough for the blood to splash onto the candlelit ground. "That is the demonic cliché."

"I was afraid you'd say no," Sebastian sighed, taking off the ruined glove and examining his bloodstained hand. "I suppose I'll have to explore other means."

 **Sebastian pls stop exploring other methods, please. It's just rude.**


	7. VII The Curtain are Rising and Falling

**The Curtains are Rising and Falling**

* * *

~O~

 _Nature has no principles. She makes no distinction between good and evil._

 _-Anatole France-_

~O~

* * *

The marionette found Beast and Joker together, speaking quietly to each other so as not to disturb the silence. _She_ was crying, or at least looked close to doing so. Joker looked saddened by her tears, but in a semi-detached manner, as though he was sorry they were there, but had bigger fish to fry. He did, of course, though he had no idea just how big they were, and neither did Beast.

Perched casually on one of the stacked-tall crates, Muffet watched idly as Joker kindly but firmly rebuffed her pleas, and walked away. He'd left her his scarf, still warm from his skin, a hidden cruelty: acting so distant, but treating her with just enough affection to keep her hanging on. To keep her hoping that one day, just maybe, he might give her more. No wonder Beast hadn't yet let go. Muffet sometimes wanted to tell her, but mostly it was entertaining in a pathetic sort of way.

Now Beast was definitely crying, and there was the manservant. Oh my, now _this_ was a plot twist: a strange man approaching a crying, emotionally vulnerable woman on this cold night? She sat up to watch, her interest piqued.

"Oh dear, are you crying?" He asked her, smiling candidly.

"None of your business!" Beast snapped, rubbing furiously at her tears. "Piss off!"

"It's no use, my dear." Muffet's eyes widened as he moved, faster than any _human_ should have been able to. He pressed himself up against Beast's back, trapping her against the metal railings that separated the camp from the forest. "Pursuing men like that is a waste of time. They can't return your feelings, so they decide to be kind. All the while knowing it only hurts you more. Cruel, isn't it?"

Well, well, looked like someone was clearly well-versed in manipulation. Muffet adjusted herself, and grinned widely. She mouthed along to his words as he spoke them, " _How long have you been crying these sad tears? How long have you been carrying on this relationship that can only make you maudlin?_ "

Beast gritted her teeth and whirled around, her fists clenched. "What would _you_ know about it?!" She threw a punch, but the man only dodged it and then caught her arm. He pulled her against him again.

And now it had gone on long enough, because as pathetic as Muffet found Beast's inane little crush, she did respect the other woman. The manservant here did not. He wanted information from her, information that she would give him because he'd caught her at a low point when she needed affection from someone. Anyone.

One of the crates was stacked precariously atop the others, and it only took the barest shove of her toes to send it crashing to the ground. The sound startled the two, and Beast ripped herself out of Black's arms. The sound had broken the mood, and fully realising their previous position and proposition, Beast snarled angrily. "You creep! Don't you _dare_ touch me ever again!" With that, she stalked off, muttering angrily to herself and furiously wiping at her eyes.

Muffet watched her leave, and then turned her attention back to Black. He looked incredibly displeased. His eyes went to the fallen crate, then to the top of the tent where Muffet was hiding-but-not-really. Smiling, she fell back into her dead-eyed-doll state, and waited for him to come get her.

It took him approximately 10 seconds to come to the same conclusion she had, and an extra 5 for him to walk over to her and pluck her down from the crates. "I am growing tired of your continued appearance, Ms. Muffet," he said calmly to her frozen smile. "Especially since you seem bent on preventing me from doing my master's bidding."

Muffet raised her head and blinked innocently. "I have no idea what you're talking about Black," she replied sweetly. "I'm just a puppet, after all."

"You are becoming a nuisance," Sebastian replied dryly. This night was turning out to be far more stressful than he had expected. "I do not typically tolerate obstacles."

"That may be, demon, but honestly what _are_ you going to do about it?" She cackled at his expression of mild surprise. "Don't deny it Black! I know supernatural creatures when I see them!" Sebastian raised both eyebrows, his interest in her rising slightly. "You're not gonna get anything from Beast now, and she was your last shot wasn't she?" Muffet tutted and pursed her lips in faux sympathy. "Too bad no one else willing to tell you anything actually knows what you want to know. Not Snake, and not Doll."

He arched an eyebrow now. "And you?" He asked curiously. "What do you know?"

"Oh me?" She laughed and jumped out of his hands and out of his immediate reac. "I know lots of things. _Lots_ of things. I know Joker does love Beast, but doesn't rank his feelings too highly. I know how Doll lost her eye, that the doctor isn't really lame, and who the Baron is!"

"You said you didn't," he cocked his head to the side as though the thought had never occurred to him. "You lied?"

"It's a thing I can do! Part of being an autonomous being with a working concept of Machiavellian intelligence." She smirked as his eyes narrowed, and held out her arms in a peaceful manner. "Don't look so annoyed, I'll tell you! I just want something in return once this is all over.

The demon's eyes gleamed thoughtfully. It had been years since someone had tried to make such a deal with him. His binding contract with Ciel meant that, in this case, she had the upper hand. And demons couldn't lie. "I cannot promise anything. After all, I am merely a servant."

"Nothing too drastic then. I'll let you know once I've thought of it. Until then," the puppet held out her hand to him. "Do we have a deal?"

Sebastian stared at the many joints that made up the appendage, and then gripped it in his own gloveless hand. He smiled back with sharp teeth. "Yes, we do."

The next morning, Black and Smile were gone as though they had never been there in the first place. Muffet pretended to be shocked and worried along with everyone else, and then went to go play with the snakes. She found Suit strolling between the tents, and made it a point to hop into place beside him. "You must be pleased now, right?" She asked cheerily.

As always, he eyes her warily and adjusted his glasses. "About what?"

"With the demon gone, your work must be much easier now." He froze with one leg in the air, and she laughed uproariously and skipped away.

In the morning their absence had been only a whisper, but by evening the news had travelled almost all around the camp. By evening, the other first-tier members were making plans to leave, and by night so was the doctor.

The candle flame shook as he hurriedly packed his belongings into a suitcase. The wheelchair had been shoved into a corner; after all he would no longer have any need for it here anyway. Whether this night or tomorrow's, things would come to a head in a truly spectacular manner. While the doctor did not care about the baron's obsessive and decidedly creepy infatuation, the man was his benefactor, and it was always nice to have someone willing to dole out money and resources for his research. He was so excited that he barely finished fastening the clips of his bag before he left his tent and snuck out of the circus. There, out of the circus's sight and hearing, and half hidden behind several trees was a carriage waiting for him.

He climbed inside without waiting for the footman at the front to open it for him, and tapped the ceiling impatiently. When there was no response, he tapped it again. His eyes narrowed, and he stuck his head out of the carriage window. "What is causing this delay!?"

Then he jumped in place as he noticed something on the ground: a dead body with a gunshot wound to the forehead. There was blood and viscera staining the side of the carriage. His eyes widened as he stared down the dark barrel of a pistol. Behind that was the grinning face with too blue eyes and thick blonde hair.

Muffet grinned wider. "Well hello Doctor! Going somewhere?"

Confusion and shock rendered him incapable of moving or speaking for several seconds, and then he began to shake. "Y-You're supposed to be wound down!" He stuttered out. Her finger was still on the trigger. "H-How did you-?"

"I know things, Doc!" The normally friendly nickname sounded threatening coming from that unhinged-looking smile. "But I won't lie, there's some information missing! So why don't you fill them out for me? Who knows, I may not even shoot you!"

The doctor threw himself back into the carriage and out the other side as fast as he could. He tried to run, but only got a few steps when a quiet gunshot rang through the air and a bullet tore through his left knee. He toppled to the ground with a scream that was more of shock than actual pain. His ears rang, but he could hear Muffet cackling behind him.

The doll was nearly crying with the irony of it all. "I guess now you really _are_ lame!" Panicked and bleeding, the doctor tried to drag himself away as she strolled over. He heard the ominous click of a gun being loaded. "Are you going to tell me what I want to know or not?"

So he talked, as such men do. He had no cares in the world aside from his research, and he was the only one who could continue it. If he died, then it would likely die with him. Once he'd confessed every horrific, depraved thing, he stared up at her hopefully. "I've told you everything, I swear! Will you let me go now?"

"Hmm…" the woman tapped her chin and hummed thoughtfully. Then she shot him in the head. She dragged the corpse back to the carriage and shoved it inside, then climbed onto the front seat. The horse hadn't been spooked by the gunshots, and only blinked blearily at her when she grabbed the reins.

This night would end in tragedy one way or another. Muffet thought of the first-tier members going off to the mysterious manor. She thought of the Phantomhives. She thought about Snake, and felt a pang of sadness. She couldn't bring him home with her, and he was fiercely loyal to the circus. They were his family; it was unlikely that he'd even be able to believe them capable of their crimes. The concept of human duality was mostly lost on him. Would he be alright without her?

The puppet sighed, and then pulled her hair out of its bun. Pale locks cascaded down her back, and she shook them off her face and shoulders. "This adventure is over," she sighed softly to herself, and then smiled into the night and flicked the reins. "Come darling, it's time to go home."

 **The Circus Arc ends here, but this is not the end. Please stick with me and I hope you enjoy what comes next!**


	8. Intermission! The Spider's Family

**Intermission One! The Spider's Family**

* * *

~O~

 _Into the darkness they go, the wise and the lovely._

 _-Edna St. Vincent Millay-_

~O~

* * *

The Pearl Café in London was a gorgeous little shop, built in the more affluent area of the city, and set out of the way of the dangerous roads. The late evening meant that the room was sparsely filled, with the main patrons being young ladies with little to do at that time other than idle chit-chat while taking tea.

A bell chimed quietly, and the maitre d bowed politely to the lady who had just stepped inside. Politely, he offered to help her with her coat, which she demurely agreed to. Underneath the bulky black garment, the lady was dressed in a yellow dress with black lace and trimming and a high neck. Long black gloves covered her arms past her elbows, and her face was half-hidden by a large yellow hat. Letting none of his thoughts about her outfit or its colour palette show on his face, the man inclined his head an inch to the side and escorted her to a free table.

Muffet took off her hat and ordered some tea, then she settled down alone with her thoughts. An hour ago, she had been in a similar position, though in a vastly different establishment. Vile and disgusting though it had been, if there was one thing that could be said of such places, it was that they were a wonderful place to overhear things.

For example, she knew that a huge fire had been seen burning throughout last night somewhere in the English countryside. There'd been a manor there, apparently, owned by some old recluse who rarely saw visitors. The circus that had been linked to the children's disappearances had packed up and left earlier that morning. A gunshot had been heard last night as well, so it wouldn't be long before the Yard was on the scene. A man with snakes around his neck and a crate at his side had been seen walking about the English countryside.

"Your tea, Miss." Muffet watched as the waiter poured her tea. "Sugar, Miss?"

"No thank you, I prefer to do it myself," she added milk and sugar to taste, and sipped contentedly. Sometimes it was nice to remind herself that she was technically a member of nobility. Dancing about in a circus ring was fun, but it wasn't like the food tent had bottles of full cream milk and Lady Grey tea on reserve.

Muffet gazed at the pale pink sky through the small circular windows. It was getting late, and she wanted to reach her destination before it got dark.

The sun was just setting when she finally reached home. The streetlights lit up the closed door and the tarnished purple sign above that read _Undertaker_ with a skull above that just in case you weren't sure. Hopping down from the driver's seat, Muffet skipped over to the door and pushed it open. It was never locked after all.

It swung open with a loud creak, and she walked inside. "I'm back!" She trilled, blinking into the gloom. There was no response, but the candles were still burning. She sighed and shut the door behind her. "Where are you hiding _now_? Are you in the coffins? Did you pickle yourself by accident again?" A skull rolled out from a corner and stopped against her foot. While she was distracted by its unexpected appearance, a shadow moved out from the wall behind her and wrapped itself around her.

Her shocked screech soon turned to an exasperated whine when she realised who it was. "Papa!"

The undertaker chuckled happily. "Welcome home~," he lifted her into the air, grinning widely at her. "How was your little adventure~? Did you have fun~?"

Charlotte pouted back at him, and then huffed. "Yes, I had fun. It was very interesting, especially near the end!"

"Oh, really~?" He cooed, spinning her around and making her squeal with laughter. "Why don't I bring out some biscuits and tea, and you can tell me _all_ about it~?" Still giggling quietly to himself, Undertaker placed her on one of the coffins and bustled around the room gathering plates for the biscuits and clean jars for the tea. Muffet smoothed out her skirt primly, smiling after him. It was nice to be home.

She arched an eyebrow at the dusty money chest that had been pushed aside carelessly. "Papa, you can't keep asking people to pay you in laughs. That's not a feasible business strategy."

"But laughs are far more valuable~," he replied. He returned back to her side, this time bearing a tray of dry biscuits and two glass jars of tea. One of the jars had been infused with enough sugar and milk that it was almost cream instead of liquid. He handed that one to her, and then chomped down on a snack. "What am I going to do with paper currency my dear~?"

"Maybe hire someone to clean this place up a bit?" She retorted dryly, which just made him cackle some more. "I'm not kidding papa. This place looks like…" she paused, realising she'd been about to say _a tomb_ , and rolled her eyes at the knowing smile on his face. "Never mind."

Undertake giggled and poked her cheek with one long, sharp nail. "Although I especially missed our little jokes, Lottie~. I was extremely bored without you~."

"What? Not enough dead people?" She pretended to be shocked, and smirked when he chuckled. If there was a business that was bound to be lucrative in Victorian England, then it had to be that of a mortician. You worked with corpses, and there was always bound to be one of those around.

"Oh there were quite a few of those, Lottie," he sighed dramatically. "Mostly police officers and Yard officials. But you have no idea how boring it is to be so out of the loop~."

"Oh really?" Charlotte peeled off her gloves and rotated her joints happily. "Then I guess you want to know the whole story, don't you?"


	9. I Struck A Deal With A Spider

**ACT II:**

* * *

 **Struck a Deal With a Spider**

* * *

~O~

 _What I love most about this crazy life is the adventure of it_

 _-Juliette Binoche-_

~O~

* * *

It had been approximately three weeks since what most of the inhabitants of the Phantomhive Manor had termed 'the Circus Situation', and though the awful memories had yet to fade for the young master they seemed quite far away now, almost as if they'd been some awful and grotesque nightmare.

At least it was over now, he thought to himself that morning over a cup of tea and the day's newspaper. There was something about the queen, half a page on some medical miracle, and a piece on the burned out manor found in the countryside, which he quickly glossed over in favour of the business section. Sebastian moved around the room quietly, tidying away the breakfast materials and generally being the perfectly dutiful butler he pretended to be.

He heard it first, of course – the rapid thudding of horse-hooves on hard-packed earth, and the creaking rattle of the carriage being drawn behind them. They seemed to be coming closer, and must have been just a few feet away when Ciel heard it as well. He lowered his newspaper and frowned. He hadn't invited anyone over, had he? And no one had informed him that they would be visiting. It could be Lizzy, but the girl had just left only a few days ago. Besides, it was too early in the day for guests anyway.

 _Rude,_ he frowned to himself, placing his newspaper flat on the table and resting a hand on it. The clattering grew louder once the rider broke through the border of trees, and then stopped outside the manor. Sebastian readied himself to greet the uninvited guest, and then politely send them away. Likely with a lesson on what was generally considered good manners amongst the English gentry. He heard a quieter thump as someone wearing hard-soled boots disembarked, and the sharp, rhythmic sound of footsteps making their way down the stone path towards the door. The person gave the wooden door six rhythmic taps with their knuckles, and he pulled it open immediately, a polite smile in place. "Excuse me, but could I ask-"

He stopped, because standing in front of him was the same marionette from the circus, but…different. Instead of the frilly bright costume she'd worn, she was dressed in a fashionably cheery blue dress with black frills and lace, and a matching ribbon around her neck where the joint of her neck was. Rather than a bun, her hair now hung down her back in a sleek wave. Completing the outfit were a pair of black silk gloves which covered the skin of her arms past her elbows.

To the unknowing eye, she looked like a perfectly normal girl. Like nobility even. The complete 180 was rather shocking.

The marionette grinned widely; her smile was still disconcertingly large and familiar, and her eyes didn't reflect the movement of her lips and cheeks. "Hello there Black! Remember me?"

"…unfortunately," he replied slowly, blinking down at her thoughtfully. "I take it you've come to take me up on our deal?"

"Smart and pretty; well done," she strode past him into the house, and Sebastian was so taken aback by her brazenness that he didn't try to stop her. "Nice house! I like the little Edwardian touches. Very tasteful."

At that moment Ciel, who had been hearing the noise coming from the front room and was annoyed with Sebastian for not getting rid of their guest quickly, stormed into the room. "Sebastian what is with this racket! Who is h- _You!_ "

"I see you haven't taken my advice on not frowning so much," she smirked at him. "I'm glad you haven't forgotten me. How could you though? I doubt anyone can do what _I_ do!" With that she rotated her upper body at the waist and winked at Sebastian. The demon slowly arched an eyebrow at her, and she shrugged but did not stop smiling. "You're no fun Black. Quite boring in fact. But, like you said; you still owe me something!"

"You _what?_ " Ciel turned on his butler who turned simply blinked placidly at him. "You made a deal? With _her?_ "

"It was fairly minor, I assure you."

"I'm the one who told him who the baron was!" She snickered, still slowly rotating her body while keeping her head utterly still. "Saved you a lot of trouble, didn't I? You never even got to know about the doctor!"

"The doctor?" Ciel's sharp gaze snapped to her. "What about the doctor?"

"Nothing interesting," she stopped and her body snapped right back to a more natural position. "Now, what should I ask you for?"

Ciel snorted derisively. "This is ridiculous. Sebastian, get rid of her. Whatever deal you made with her is cancelled."

"I could be wrong, but I don't think he can do that," Muffet replied calmly. "He's a demon, isn't he? His sort can't lie. They can spin awfully pretty tales and twist words, but against something direct and straightforward well…" she shrugged and began examining her painted on nails.

"How did you know he was a demon?" Ciel asked, genuine curiousity leaking into his tone.

"I know my supernatural creatures, kid," Muffet replied with a loose-limbed shrug. "I've seen a few of them. You could throw me out, but he'd still owe me something. I guess you _could_ also kill me before I could ask it, but then you'd never get to know that all I wanted was to be a maid in this manor."

That last part was said so quickly that neither of them caught it at first, and then they weren't quite sure how to react at first. That…had not been what they'd been anticipating. Actually, nothing about her could really be anticipated, but this least of all.

Ciel recovered last and spoke first. "You…what?"

" _I,_ " she drawled the syllable out exaggeratedly like she was talking to a much younger child. "Want to _work_ as a _maid_ in this _manor_. You both seem like you go in fairly interesting adventures, and I _love_ interesting adventures."

"You can't be serious," Ciel scowled at her. "You want to stay here because you think it'll be _fun_?"

She cocked her head at him curiously like the question didn't make sense to her. "Yes? That is typically why I do most things. Life's boring without the thrills and gambles, don't you think? A lady's gotta take risks! Are you telling me you'd rather bunk with Mephistopheles over there than a walking, talking, fully autonomous puppet-girl? Bo-ring~."

He narrowed his eyes at the sing-song tone of her voice. Where had he heard that sound before? "At least I know where his interests lie and his loyalties are. What if one day you think it'll be _fun_ and _risky_ to betray me?"

"Then I guess you'll have to take that risk! Besides," she smiled an unconcerned smile and gestured to Sebastian. "You have your demon guard dog over there. Technically, you hold most of the cards. I just want to be along for the ride. So!" She clapped her hands together, and the sound was louder and sharper than it would have been if it was skin underneath the cotton gloves. Ciel wondered if there would be hairline fractures in the surface. "Do we have a deal?"

Ciel and Sebastian exchanged looks, and finally the young lord sighed and massaged the bridge of his nose with a sigh. "Fine. I'll keep you on as a maid. However the first sign of dissent and I _will_ throw you out! Sebastian, find her a uniform."

"Yes, my lord. Come along then."

"Oooh, uniforms! I hope they're cute! I've seen some really ugly servant uniforms in my lifetime," she skipped after Sebastian, taking in the manor's interior with admiring eyes as he led her to the spare room where they kept a few spare uniforms. Muffet held up the plain blue dress and apron critically, and then shrugged. "Meh. This'll do."

"Quite," Sebastian replied dryly. "I will leave you to it then, Miss…?"

"Charlotte," she replied, smiling at him through the half-shut door. "You can call me Charlotte. I look forward to working with you, _mon ange tombé_." Then she shut the door.

* * *

oOo

* * *

It was clear that the other servants weren't sure what to make of their new workmate.

It was hard to know what she was thinking; Muffet had been smiling at them silently throughout Sebastian's introduction, and over the course of the minute he had been talking it had gone from looking happy and natural, to unnerving them entirely. There was something cold in her eyes, and they weren't sure why it was there.

"I hope you all treat her well," Sebastian finished, and if he could see how alarmed the others were, he didn't let on. He simply nodded at Mey-Rin. "Mey-Rin, you will be taking Charlotte under your wing for the time being. Please show her where the cleaning supplies are kept."

"Eh? M-Me?" The redhead squeaked and found herself stepping back when Charlotte made her way over to her and stood at her side. Sebastian, finished with his instructions, turned and exited the kitchen, leaving them with her. Mey-Rin turned to Charlotte nervously, who was still smiling sweetly. "Uh…hello…?"

She didn't say a word, and then her head creaked and rotated before their horrified eyes, until they were staring at a less pleasant expression. "Boo!"

Their screams could be heard throughout the grounds.


	10. II The Queen Demands a Ball

**The Queen Demands a Ball**

* * *

~O~

 _I'm a great believer in spontaneity because I think planning is the most destructive thing in the world._

 _-John Cassavetes-_

~O~

* * *

As loathe as Ciel was to admit it, Charlotte fit perfectly well within the manor. Yes her large smile was still as large and disconcerting as ever, and the servants were terrified of her, but she didn't cause any trouble. She dusted and washed and swept with no complaints, humming nursery rhymes to herself all the while. Apart from the occasional moment when she unscrewed her limbs to clean out a bit of dust that had collected inside the joints, she acted just like any other servant girl.

It was suspicious. He still didn't trust her, or her reasons, and was annoyed with Sebastian for allowing himself to be trapped in a deal with someone like her.

Sebastian on the other hand, felt that her presence in the manor gave it a little more character, made it a little more interesting. Charlotte did not avoid him, but neither did she go out of her way to seek him out. Mostly she seemed fascinated by the architecture and layout of the building.

Sometimes however, he'd catch her during her chores, and as he stared the smile would drop off her face by degrees until she was staring blankly into the distance, her mind a thousand miles away. And then she would blink, rouse herself from whatever reverie she had fallen into, and resume work. He wondered what she was thinking about during those moments. The circus maybe? At any rate, it was clear that she had no love for anyone in the manor, least of all the servants.

Well she had no love for anyone, save for Agni and Prince Soma, but Sebastian wasn't sure if she liked them as people or as novelties. He'd seen her walking through the garden with the Prince during her free time, the two of them accompanied at a distance by Agni.

"So?" Ciel asked the foreign dignitaries one morning in late September. "When do you plan to leave?"

"What's with that?" Soma pouted, sounding incredibly childish for someone who was most certainly an adult. "And after I took the time out to spend the winter holidays with you!"

"Don't just invent holidays to suit your fancy!" Ciel snapped, glaring over his newspaper at the prince before something caught his eye. It was an article on the death of a wealthy diamond trader in South Africa. He skimmed through the page, skipping over most of the rambling obituaries and empty well-wishes, and vaguely heard Soma say something about beating him in chess.

Ciel scoffed quietly to himself and rose. "Sorry, but I've got work today. Sebastian, let's go."

"But you promised to play a game with me!" Soma whined, puffing out his cheeks and narrowing his eyes. Ciel stared at him and wondered, not for the first time, how this manchild was next in line for his homeland's throne. Yes Soma was better now than he had been before, but he still had a ways to go.

The boy sighed and glanced over his shoulder at him. "Why don't you polish your skills by solving some chess puzzles while I'm working?" He suggested pointedly. "You have too few counter-moves." He ignored Soma's declarations of vengeance as he left the room, his mind already on the work for the next few days.

He caught sight of Charlotte standing at the window, a rag in one hand, and a large tin of polish in the other. She was staring at something outside, but turned to them when she heard their footsteps and grinned jovially at him. "Good morning, young master! How was your breakfast?"

He scowled back, even though she technically hadn't done anything to earn his ire. His anger seemed to amuse her. "Uneventful. What were you staring at?"

"The storm clouds," she replied. "They've been hovering ominously for hours. I don't like that. It should rain so that it can all be over."

It was true that the sky had been an ominous shade of grey since yesterday, and the looming threat of a rainstorm was beginning to grate on everyone's nerves. Ciel huffed. "I'm not paying you to make commentary about the weather."

She blinked at him like she's briefly forgotten about his presence, and then she smiled and shrugged. "I guess that's true!" She tossed the rag into the tin, picked it up, and strolled in the direction of the kitchen. Sebastian watched her go, eying the subtle sway of her hips. The way she moved was odd; it was natural, but it also made you feel wary, like something was wrong, until you noticed how smooth and effortless it all looked. Too smooth to be entirely human.

Charlotte stepped into the kitchen at the same time that the chef made a comment about the weather, and then he clamped his mouth shut. She smiled internally. Yes what she was doing might be considered cruel to some, but look at it from her perspective: these people killed her circus family.

Alright, so her circus family had been made up of kidnappers and murderers, but she'd loved them all the same. Most of them anyway. Sometimes she woke up in the middle of night, an arm outstretched to reach for Snake or Beast, and then she remembered that they were gone. She'd cry if she felt like she could.

The girl placed the polish on the proper shelf in the cupboard, and pushed it shut. At that same moment, someone kicked the door in with unnecessary force. She turned to see two men standing at the entrance, both in silver and white uniforms. The one in front smirked round the room. His hand rested casually on the rapier at his waist.

"Good morning~!" He greeted cheerfully. His voice had the same lilting, sing-song quality as her papa, only less jovial and more annoying. "Is Earl Phantomhive in?"

Charlotte leaned back to watch as Bard and Mey-Rin got to their feet, recovering quickly from the shock. "Who the hell are you?" The chef snarled.

The man's grin widened. "What? Are you going to play with _me?_ "

He swung his sword in a wide arc, nearly taking off their heads. The two jumped back, and Mey-Rin whipped out two guns from somewhere on her person. Charlotte eyed them curiously – she needed new guns too. The maid knocked her glasses to her forehead and launched a volley of bullets at the man, destroying all the plates in the shelf behind him.

"Wow! Double guns are so cool~!" He laughed, and darted forward bringing his sword up. "But up close, I win~! Isn't that just too bad?" He brought his knee up and slammed it into Mey-Rin's stomach.

 _This is a massacre,_ Charlotte tapped her bottom lip with one painted finger while she considered the pros and cons of helping. Then she saw the trajectory and intended target of the sword, and immediately reached a decision. Charlotte stretched her hand out into the path of the incoming sword, catching it on the flat end and stopping it in its tracks. The man's eyes widened. "I wasn't aware that the Earl had any other servants~."

"I'm new," she smiled and wrapped her hands firmly around the sword, yanking it out of his surprised hands. In the next second she had the point of it at his throat. "I love destruction as much as the next girl, but since I work here now, and a funeral might interfere with the overall atmosphere, I have to ask you to state your business."

He swallowed, but the smile never left his face. "Or what? You'll stab me~?"

"Buddy I have done worse for less."

"Charlotte, that's quite enough." She rolled her eyes as Sebastian approached, and lowered the rapier. She examined her palms for cracks, but found none, as expected. She wasn't sure what material her papa had used to craft her body, but it certainly didn't break easily. She saw the other uniformed man staring at her hand as well, and waved at him jauntily with the undamaged appendage. "I apologise for our maid. She is new and unused to acting in a decorous manner befitting her position."

She shrugged and handed the man back his sword. "I'll be over there then."

"To make up for this, why don't you try one of the cream puffs?"

"Hmm. They're so-so, I guess. Kind of like the lowest passing mark?"

"S-Sebastian, what the hell are these guys?" Bard burst out once he could speak.

The first man smirked and licked the last of his cream from his thumb. "I'm Charles Grey. This is my associate, Charles Phipps. We're codenamed Double Charles."

"We are Her Majesty's private secretarial officers and butlers," Phipps said in a deeper voice than his associate. "Pleased to make your acquaintance."

"That doesn't explain why you're here though," Charlotte piped loudly, bored now that the fight was over. She ignored Sebastian's warning glare, mostly.

Grey laughed. "Oh, how remiss of me~! We simply came here to deliver a letter to the Earl." He pulled a crisp white envelope from his jacket pocket, sealed with red wax and bearing what Charlotte could see was the royal insignia.

Sebastian sighed quietly, and handed the tray of baked goods to Bard. "Clean up this mess, the four of you. I will escort our guest to see the young master," he nodded to Phipps and Grey. "Please follow me."

Charlotte watched the three of them go, and then plucked a chocolate croissant from the bottom tier of the tray and took a bite. She didn't _need_ to eat, but it certainly felt good to. She swallowed and stared up at the sky through the window, and frowned at the dark, circling clouds.

This would be a problem. "Um…Miss. Charlotte?"

Charlotte turned around and stared blankly at the redhead behind her. She looked a lot more competent without her glasses, though the unfocused expression on her face told Charlotte that the maid was very blind without them.

"I wanted to thank you for stopping him when you did," she said. "If you hadn't jumped in, I don't know what would have happened."

She shrugged off Mey-Rin's gratitude like it was a particularly ugly, out-of-style scarf and replied smoothly, "Don't expect it to happen again. Now don't you have cleaning to get to?"

"But-!"

Charlotte had already walked off. Normally she'd stay and play dutiful servant-girl with them, but this sounded much more interesting. She had explored the Phantomhive ventilation system extensively during her first two weeks on the job, so it was fairly simple to contort her body inside and slither through the crawlspace until she found one of the six openings into the main parlour room. She heard the door open as they entered, and pressed her ear to the floor.

She heard Sebastian offering snacks, quiet murmurs of decline, the sound of fabric rustling before Phipps finally brought up the reason for their surprise visit. "In accordance with the Queen's request, we would like for you to host a banquet and entertain a guest who is coming to visit England in two weeks time."

"Why me?" Ciel asked, sounding equal parts annoyed and confused. "I do not think the guest will be at ease if he is being entertained by someone he hardly knows."

"The person we'd like you to entertain is a certain German person. He also happens to be a distant relative of the Queen. It is to be a sneak visit to England. He is interested in our country's industry and popular literature. He also wishes to mingle with persons of profound scholarship. The Funtom Company is one of England's businesses that is boasted of all over the world. With connections such as yours, you should be able to call forth some guests to please our visitor."

"That may be so, but think about it. Is it alright for the Queen to let _me_ entertain him?"

Grey spoke now, having been silent and letting his partner broach the topic. "The Queen has been having some doubts about the earl since the report on _the incident_ the other day. _We have disposed of the criminals. Since the children were beyond help, we made them nonexistent along with the mansion. The decision to tell the parents the truth is up to the government._ Surely there were no cover-ups in your report?"

Charlotte recalled what she'd heard regarding the circus case; a fire burning throughout the night where a manor had once stood. She'd never asked what had happened to the children, she'd just assumed that they were all dead after that the doctor had told her, and she'd been right about that, but not about their killer.

"Don't you think there's a chance to restore your image with this mission? Then again," Grey added slyly. "This is really just a request from the Queen to the _noble_ earl, and not _the_ _watchdog._ "

" _Noblesse oblige_ ," Phipps agreed. "We would like you to think of it as an obligation as one of the ones who have it all."

There was silence for a moment, presumably while Ciel considered it, before she finally heard the boy sigh quietly. "I understand," he said to them. "I'll take it."

"By the way, since I'm the overseeing officer, it's okay if I participate as well, right?" Grey sounded far too jovial for the topic of conversation, and he cheered when Phipps agreed to his request. "Also, we just confirmed the safety of the mansion. It looks like you don't need an increase in security guards."

 _Huh, so that's what that was about,_ Charlotte thought. "The mansion's security is flawless," Ciel said. "Still, it can't be helped that our risk factor will increase due to uninvited people."

The noise level increased both men rose to their feet. "Since it's settled then, we'll be taking our leave. You don't need to see us out," Phipps said politely. "Good day, Earl Phantomhive."

In the room, Ciel stared at the door that the two men had exited through, and sighed resignedly to himself. He'd hoped to have at least another month of nothing before the Queen decided to punish him for what he liked to consider a ' _momentary lapse of judgement_ '. (It sounded better than ' _brief mental breakdown triggered by being placed in a replica of the place I was tortured in for several months as a child_ ').

"Well then, Sebastian, prepare the invitations at once. And, after that," he made his way to the window to watch the butlers as they left the manor grounds. "Contact Lau and Undertaker as well."

"Undertaker?" Ciel would deny the loud half-screech, half-squeak of panic he made 'til the day he died. Charlotte cocked the head that was sticking out of the vent near the floor, grinning happily.  
"We're going to see the Undertaker?"

Sebastian pulled her out. "You have a knack for being in unexpected places, don't you?"

"It's a talent. So, are we? Oh _please_ say we are!"

Ciel cleared his throat, half-tempted to throw her out, but also curious about her apparent excitement. "You know the Undertaker?"

"Yes!" She chirped. "He's my favourite person in the whole world! Please let me go with you!"

"I will make all arrangements, my lord. Please excuse us," Sebastian tucked Charlotte under his arm, bowed courteously, and walked out of the room.


	11. III The Bonemaker's Daughter

**The Bonemaker's Daughter  
**

* * *

~O~

 _"I figured even the most jaded and cynical inhabitant might report a bloody girl in a party dress carrying a severed head by its hair"_

 _-Faith Hunter, Skinwalker-_

~O~

* * *

Charlotte was nearly wriggling out of her seat by the time the carriage pulled up to the mortuary, and she barely waited for Ciel to get down before she was already jumping out and skipping lightly over to the scuffed black-brown door on black-booted feet. Sebastian immediately reached forward and rested a hand on her shoulder, gently but firmly pulling her back before she could barge into the building. She levelled him with an unimpressed look. "What?"

He matched it with one of his own. "Is knocking such a foreign concept to you?"

"I like to think of it as an unnecessary courtesy. At any rate, he won't mind!"

Ciel groaned quietly and squeezed the bridge of his nose. "Sebastian, control her a little." Offended by the idea that she could be controlled, Charlotte huffed something unpleasant under her breath, but stopped trying to dive straight for the door. Sebastian, still resting a hand on her shoulder, knocked politely on the door. As always, there was no response, and he then pushed it open. Ciel stepped in first. "Undertaker, are you here?"

Low cackles rose up from behind one of the coffins – a mahogany affair with flowers carved into the edges. The three stared with differing emotions as the man straightened up in the dim lighting, a needle and thread in one hand, and a grown man's arm in the other, already grey from the early stages of decay. "Earl, what a surprise~! I didn't expect to see you today~!"

Ciel opened his mouth to answer, but Charlotte beat him to the punch. "PAPA!" She wriggled out of the Sebastian's grasp and went flying into Undertaker's arms. He promptly dropped both the needle and limb, and caught her with a pleased giggle, hefting her up. "Papa, how have you been? I haven't seen you in weeks!"

"I'm fine Lottie~" he cooed. "Although I do miss our little jokes. Have you thought of any new ones for me~?"

"Well, I thought of one about a train conductor, a horse, and the concept of nihilism-"

"What the hell going on?" Ciel snapped, interrupting whatever had been happening between the puppet-girl and the mortician. Both blinked at him – though he couldn't actually see Undertaker's eyes so he could only assume – and then at each other.

Charlotte rolled her eyes as though it was perfectly obvious. "Young master, didn't you hear me earlier? He's my papa. _Mon pére_."

"Earl, thank you for taking such good care of my little Lottie~," Undertaker snickered, bowing theatrically at the waist and nearly tipping the girl out of his arms. "I knew my daughter would be safe in your care~."

" _Daughter?!_ " Ciel screeched indignantly.

"Oh my," Sebastian murmured quietly in the background.

"Yes, daughter," Charlotte repeated. She pressed her cheek against Undertaker's. Their lips stretched into wide, wickedly amused grins. "Can't you just _tell_ from the family resemblance?"

This sudden revelation was giving Ciel a headache. It certainly explained how Charlotte had known about the Phantomhive family, but now he had to wonder exactly how Undertaker of all people had magically found himself with a daughter of all things. Especially one made of whatever the hell Charlotte was made of. He'd seen neither hair nor tail of her during any of his precious visits.

"How the hell did you get a child?" He blurted. "And one of you needs to please stop smiling. It's unnerving."

"Rude," Charlotte pouted, her rosebud lips turning downwards, but at least she was no longer grinning. They both had looked like strange monsters with smiles too wide for their faces and far too many teeth. "That is not exactly making me feel like sharing."

"Now, now Lottie~. It's no crime to be curious~," Undertaker poked her cheek with one scarily sharp fingernail. She snapped at it playfully and he chuckled and pinched her nose. "But I'm afraid that's a long story Earl, and we don't have time for that now. Why don't we ask for what you actually came for~? Since you brought my darling Lottie home to visit, I'll even do it for free~."

Ciel huffed, torn between his nosiness and his current obligation, before he ultimately decided that speed was off the essence in this matter. If he wanted information from Charlotte about her past, he could always come back later, get it out of the girl herself, or order Sebastian to do some digging. "Fine," he muttered, and got down to business.

* * *

 **Short chapter leading up to the Murder Arc, but I also have to ask for help, so if anyone reading this is knowledgeable about the French Revolution, including social classes, please PM me. Thank you!**


	12. IV Enter, the Company

**Enter, the Company  
**

* * *

~O~

 _Theatres are curious places, magician's trick-boxes where the golden memories of dramtic triumphs linger like nostalgic ghosts, and where the unexplainable, the fantastic, the tragic, the comic and the absurd are routine occurences on and off the stage. Murders, mayhem, politcal intrigue, lucrative business, secret assignations, and of course, dinner.  
_

 _-E.A. Bucchianeri, Brushstrokes of a Gadfly-_

~O~

* * *

It was decided that the party would be held on a Friday, to allow the guests enough time to rest and recuperate from their hangovers, embarrassment over drunken shenanigans, and scandals before the beginning of the week. In an unfortunate turn of events, the heavy storm clouds that had loomed over the English countryside chose that afternoon to open up and empty themselves upon the earth in a torrent of raindrops as big as pebbles.

"Ah," Finny murmured quietly, staring out of the kitchen window. The sound of the rain falling almost drowned him out entirely. "The rain finally came."

Charlotte chopped mechanically, her mind elsewhere. Carrots cut into perfectly even circles were swept into the bowl at her side, and then she reached for a green pepper. Steam rose from the pot that Bard was stirring, and the blonde turned to grin at the occupants of the room.

"Isn't this because the young master is doing something unusual?" He asked cheekily. His teasing earned him a sharp reprimand from Mey-Rin, who Charlotte had noticed was very protective of Ciel, but not as much as Finny. "Alright, alright! You didn't have to hit me!"

"If only the weather was so convenient," Charlotte commented drolly, only partly listening. "Ah~, _il pleut des cordes_ _. I wonder how this will affect the party…"_

"The party won't be cancelled because of a little rain. Don't idle!" Sebastian appeared in the kitchen doorway. His hands connected sharply, a move that caused spines to snap straight and sent them scurrying to order. Charlotte blinked slowly, catlike, startled entirely out of her reverie as he continued. "It will be time to meet the guests soon. When you are called into the dining hall, come out in order according to your position. Do _try_ not to mix anything up, understood?"

"Yes sir!" The three chorused obediently.

"Mmhmm," Charlotte hummed noncommittally.

Sebastian glanced at her, but decided not to call her out on it. "Then please wait in the entrance hall first while the guests are arriving. Until then, you may tidy yourselves up."

As soon as he left, Charlotte dropped the knife and the green pepper. She stretched her arms up, spinning her joints several times because she knew it scared the other servants, and strolled out of the kitchen and towards the servants' quarters. As she walked, Charlotte recalled a time when she would have been the one preparing to attend the ball in dresses of silk and chiffon, instead of cotton work-wear that smelled like dried spice and marinade. Even if she had disliked the strict and oppressive rules of her old life, she had _loved_ attending those lavish parties.

She stopped by the little sink in her and Mey-Rin's shared bedroom, and splashed a little water on her face. Droplets dripped from her forehead and into her eyes, and she reached blindly for the little pink washcloth hanging beside the sink. When she was sure she was clean as she could be, Charlotte rooted around in her bag until she found a pair of white kid-gloves. She pulled them on, hiding the joints of her fingers, and the ring on her left hand.

 _Oh la la~_ Charlotte eyed the people in the front room with glittering eyes. Everyone in the room was the dazzling, charismatic type that would have been at home in the ballrooms of Paris. The English and their delicate sensibilities, she sniffed. Honestly the list of those it was improper to talk to was as extensive and sporadic as the trends back home. Still Charlotte was pleased to note that she could name everyone present by face and newspaper article.

 _Carl Woodley_ , the president of a diamond polishing business. His hair was slicked back with copious amounts of pomade, and he wore the sly-smug expression of a man who knew he held all of life's cards and could deal them as he pleased. He wore large gold rings on all his fingers, thumbs included, each one inlaid with a tiny diamond.

 _Irene Diaz_ , a renowned opera singer and actress with hair that was almost as light as Charlotte's, and violet-blue eyes. Accompanying her was her current lover and theatre producer, _Grimsby Keane_. Having only seen his sharp features in print, Charlotte was mildly surprised to realise that his hair was ginger as opposed to mouse-brown.

 _Lau_ ; to the general public he was a Chinese nobleman, and the British branch manager of the Shanghai trading company _Kong Rose_. To the undercity however, he ran opium dens and brothels, and was rumoured to be a part of the Chinese syndicate. Attached to his arm was his little sister (by title only), _Ran-Mao_. She was dressed in a revealing _qipao_ , with flower clips adorning her hair, and a black feather boa around her arms.

 _Patrick Phelps_ , one of the less eye-catching individuals for sure. He stood shyly in the middle of the room, and was much younger than the other attendees. Charlotte knew him as the supervision executive of _Blue Star Line_ – a shipbuilding and shippingcompany _._ For someone in such a position of leadership, he certainly didn't act it.

The seventh person though, Charlotte cocked her head as she noticed the man standing away from the others. She knew who he was, his picture had been pasted next to his story in Beeton magazine's Christmas annual: Arthur Conan Doyle. His story had been one of the most interesting things she'd read in a while, but he wasn't exactly popular.

He looked incredibly out of place. His suit was faded and brown, and was probably the only formalwear he owned. The black elbow patches had likely been stitched there due to necessity rather than style. His hair might have been combed earlier, but his anxious fidgeting had caused strands to come loose. Rather than exuding the confidence of his peers, his entire demeanour screamed nervousness. _Why is he here?_

In the room, Arthur Conan Doyle was wondering the exact same thing. What exactly was he doing inside this opulent manor, surrounded by individuals so stunning that he could hardly stand to look at them for too long? He should be at home moaning over his manuscript, or in his office scribbling out prescriptions. He definitely shouldn't be _here._

Someone bumped into him and he half-turned to move out of the way, apology at the ready, when he made the unfortunate mistake of looking down.

"Ah, excuse me," an accented voice apologised cheerfully while Arthur scrambled to regain control over his faculties while avoiding looking anywhere at the scantily dressed girl in front of him. he focused on the man instead, who was scolding her lightly. "Ran-Mao, you shouldn't space out. Where's your apology?"

"D-Don't bother!" He stammered out. He had very little experience with foreigners, and he didn't want to offend either of them. His presence was already a social faux-pas, there was no need to make it worse. "A-Are you also actors?"

"How kind of you to think so, but no," the Chinese man chuckled. "I am but a humble branch manager working at a trading company. My name is Lau, and this here is my little sister, Ran Mao. Who might you be?"

Arthur shifted in place uncertainly, unsure how he was to answer in a way that wouldn't make him sound utterly pathetic by comparison. "I'm an eye specialist," he revealed shyly. "And I'm also a bit of a writer..."

"Ooh, a wordsmith eh? That's amazing!" Arthur flushed in surprise. It was rare that his hobby was complimented rather than criticized. He wasn't sure he deserved whatever admiration Lau had somehow deemed him worthy of.

"No such thing!" He hastened to say. "I'm nothing special at all! To be honest, I have never even _met_ the earl before, so I don't really know why I was invited to this lavish banquet."

Lau shrugged as though that was of no real consequence, and poked Ran-Mao's cheek affectionately. "Who knows?" He chirped. "I don't really know what that moody guy is thinking. Still," his voice changed to something that was just a tad bit less jovial. "Without a doubt, something interesting will happen. Probably."

Arthur stared at the man silently, unsure what to make of that. The urge to go home that been sitting in his stomach began to pace up and down.

"Besides," Lau's voice switched back to its originally airy tone. "The earl hates the staunch social life, and is famous for being a rare character that hardly ever shows himself to the public. I think that this is the first time that he has ever invited people into his home. Aren't you lucky…"

Curious in spite of himself, Arthur had to ask. "What kind of person is he?"

"Hmmm," Lau put a finger to his chin in thought. "Well basically he's either sullen or angry, and extremely proud. It's also said that he wears an eye-patch like a pirate, and that it has some story behind it."

Arthur panicked internally. What kind of man was this? An eye-patch? His mind conjured up the visage of a gruff old man with thick eyebrows perpetually furrowed in anger, and a moustache.

"Why don't you leave your teasing of the guests at that?" A voice spoke from the top of the staircase, and Arthur's earlier panic was replaced by shock. "Thank you for accepting my invitation today. I am the head of the house, Ciel Phantomhive."

 _A child?!_ He gaped at the figure making his way down. This short, slender waif-like bot with huge eyes could only have been 12 or 13 at the most! How could _this_ be the earl Phantomhive? _He has an eye-patch though,_ a part of him pointed out, and Arthur wondered what the story behind it could be.

Standing behind the earl was a tall, impeccably dressed butler _._ "Hmm?" The earl glanced around the room, scanning the present company. "It seems that the guest of honour hasn't arrived yet."

"With this foul weather, his arrival would have been delayed," the butler replied.

The earl sighed, a bit put out by the perceived delay to the festivities. "Well it's not like we can keep everyone waiting in the hall like this-"

At that moment, there was a knock at the door, which almost went unheard due to the storm outside. "Ah. That must be him," the butler went to open the door.

The guest in question was a tall, robust man with ash-blond hair, a stern visage, and lips that looked unaccustomed to smiling. His sideburns were thick, as were his eyebrows which were drawn in downwards in a permanent expression of irritation. He looked very much like Arthur's imaginary caricature of the earl.

"Pleased to make your acquaintance," he introduced himself in a gruff voice tinged by a German accent. "I am Georg von Siemens. I am grateful for your invitation, Lord Phantomhive."

Behind the wall, Charlotte let herself grin. The guest of honour had arrived and the banquet could finally start! She couldn't wait for the night to turn interesting. The two noblemen shook hands. "I am deeply sorry to have delayed you," Lord Siemens apologised.

"Of course not," Ciel brushed his apology away courteously. "You have come from afar. Let us exchange greetings once the party has started. For now, please chat freely at the buffet."

Charlotte copied Mey-Rin, and inclined her head deferentially when Lord Siemens and Grey walked by her, giggling all the while. This servant-game was fun in its own little way. With two trays balanced in either hand, Charlotte twirled through the ballroom, getting up close looks at each of the guests as she stopped to offer them bites of whatever delicious thing Sebastian had whipped up.

A conversation between Woodley, Siemens and Grey told her that Siemens was the director of the Bamberger Bank in Germany, Earl Grey tea was named after Charles Grey's family, and Woodely's faux modesty (referring to a multi-million diamond polishing company as "a humble business" while simultaneously flashing more than a year's wage worth in jewellery) was annoying as hell _._

There was also some talk about ship-building and bank loans, but that was boring and she drifted off.

"Earl, would you mind introducing me as well?" Lau asked. He had been sitting back and watching the Europeans talk business. Charlotte could appreciate a man who was calculating.

Ciel nodded, gesturing for him to come closer and turning their attention to him. "This is Mr. Lau. He is the English brand manager for the Shanghai trading company, _Kong Rose_."

"Kong…Rose?" Phelp's eyes widened and his face paled. He looked like he wanted to take several steps back, but something in Lau's sharp eyes made him freeze. His mouth snapped shut and he dropped his eyes, focusing on the floor pattern instead. Lau ran the black market docks, Charlotte thought, so it made sense that Phelps would know who he was.

"Nice to meet you all," Lau greeted amiably. "My name is Lau."

"To have a branch in England, you must certainly have a large network," Siemens commented, and then he yelped when Ran-Mao left Lau's side and plastered herself to him, squeezing certain parts of her anatomy against his upper arm. "What the-?!"

"Oh my," Lau said blithely, not moving to do anything about it. "I'm so sorry; she's such a pampered child. Even though we do have a wide network, we haven't bothered Germany yet. Please teach us things for future reference."

Charlotte watched with interest as Siemens finally managed to pry the small girl away from him, and he held her at arm's length. "Fine, so would you please let go?" His face was bright red from embarrassment. He coughed and composed himself once again, eying Ran-Mao warily as if she was about to jump him again. "If you've got an interest in Germany, then ask me again tomorrow. I also have some interest in the state of affairs in Asia."

"Ah~, it looks like he doesn't like us," Lau smiled beatifically after the man.

"He doesn't look like he likes anyone," Charlotte commented from unoccupied side, before blinking innocently up at him. "Drink, sir?"

Lau stared down at her, only mildly surprised by the sudden presence, and cocked his head to the side. "Who are you?"

"Oi," Ciel marched over to them before she could answer. "What do you think you're doing Lau? And Charlotte, you are not to speak with the guests unless spoken to."

"I was only offering him a drink, young master," she replied demurely.

"Is she a new servant, earl?" Lau asked, grinning now. "I had no idea you'd hired anyone!"

"Pardon us," a new voice said. Charlotte used that moment to admire the stylish cut of Irene's dress, before slipping away.

She spotted the out-of-place writer a few minutes later. He was sitting further away from the festivities after being snubbed by Sebastian, which Charlotte thought had been pointlessly rude. Yes she was lying, mischievous girl with slightly sadistic tendencies, but at least she wasn't a total dick about it.

His eyes remained trained on the carpet as she made her way towards him, and he only looked up when she was directly in front of him. " _Bonjour, monsieur!_ Would you like a glass?"

Arthur blinked several times, shocked that he was being spoken to again, if only by a servant. His eyes snapped up to the woman's face, and widened marginally as he stared into blue eyes that would not look out of place in the most expensive of dolls. They were half lowered in amusement above a dainty nose and a pink mouth. Arthur fumbled for a moment before he finally managed to stutter out a thank you and take a glass of wine that he wasn't sure if he was actually going to drink at this point.

The servant-girl smirked, winked, and swept away in a flurry of skirt and blonde hair. There was something off about the way she moved, but he hardly had time to think about it when someone stopped by his seat and asked, "Would you mind if I sit next to you?"

"No, please, go right ahead – EARL?!"

The boy blinked up at him, and Arthur realised that he had leaped to his feet. "Are you enjoying yourself?" He asked as though nothing odd had occurred.

"Y-Yes…"

The earl smiled wider, and waved to the chair beside him. "Please sit down, professor."

Arthur quickly sat down, hoping no one had heard or seen him react in such an indecorous manner. At least the earl looked amused by him. "Ah. No, no, I'm not really in a position to be called a professor just yet."

He arched an eyebrow imperiously. "But that is what I would prefer to call you, so it's fine isn't it? Unless it somehow displeases you…?"

"Oh…well…not, I suppose not," he chuckled nervously and looked down at his wineglass. Maybe he should drink it, just for courage's sake. How exactly did one speak to a child in such a position? Were the earl one of his many nieces and nephews, he could have laughed with them over games and newspaper cartoons, but the earl looked like someone who would be bored by such infantile banality. He took a fortifying sip. "I don't mean to be rude earl, but why did you invite someone like me to this party?"

"The other day I read one of your works," he replied. "It was the novel published in Beeton's Christmas Annual."

Arthur's mind flashed back to the story, his only published work to date. _A Study in Scarlet_ had featured a new character he had created; a detective by the name of Sherlock Holmes, and his loyal assistant John Watson. Unfortunately the English public had turned up their noses at it, and Beeton's was the only magazine willing to publish it, likely only as page-filler.

"You read such a minor magazine? Even with your high social standing?" He blurted.

The earl shrugged. "Rank and social status have nothing to do with it. Besides, most of my customers are commoners." He laughed a little. "I even read Punch. The protagonist of your story was very witty and charming."

"What, really?!" Again, Arthur found himself leaping to his feet. He quickly sat down again, and took a large sip of wine to give his hands something to do. The writer smiled self-depreciatingly. "But you know that novel was really unpopular. I don't really have plans to continue it." He wasn't looking, and so he didn't see the displeased expression on Ciel's face, but he did hear the sigh.

"I can't believe they don't appreciate the novelty of your work," he muttered. "It's hard to believe that they're citizens of an advanced nation."

Arthur wasn't sure if it was his words or the wine that were making him feel so warm. "I want to write a historical novel, but it's already been rejected by several publishing firms because it won't sell."

"Well you should make a name for yourself first," the earl grinned satirically. "Then it won't matter what you write. Plenty of authors are lauded as authorities even though the bulk of their writing is trash."

"Exactly! That's exactly right!" A very drunk, very unstable Grimsby slurred loudly. "It's simply unforgiveable is what it is! Obstinate old fools love to throw their money around in our industry! If acting was just reading lines, then amateur on the street could do it! Don't you agree?"

Ciel quickly schooled his features so that none of his irritation showed. He had been having a perfectly civil conversation with someone he admired in his own way, and didn't appreciate the drunken disruption. "Uh, yes…the set and costume designs in your productions are phenomenal."

It was so easy to stroke people's egos. Grimsby spun around to face him with a large smile. "Oh, you appreciate my work? Wonderful! Just once, I would like to work with such a discerning producer! What do you say?"

"Um, sure…"

" _I told you to stop touching me!_ " Irene's voice cut through the room, drawing everyone's attention to her and von Siemens _._ She was backing away from him, her arms up around her torso in a defensive posture. He was leering at her with a sick grin on his red face, and was holding an apathetic Charlotte's arm with one hand. Phelps was standing there, looking worried but ultimately being useless. "To have you all over me with your disgusting hands; I can't take it anymore! Just leave me alone!"

"It's your fault for wearing those clothes," he retorted, slurring even more now. "You English women are all the same! You really want to be touched, don't you?" He leered at her with a sickening grin. "Don't pretend to act so sweet and innocent now..."

He reached for her, and the crack of her hand making contact with his face sent him staggering backwards. "Insolent jerk!" She screamed. "Harassing servants and guests alike, have some shame!"

"Why you," he snarled, rubbing his stinging cheek. "Like I'll let you say that to me!"

Charlotte saw him reach for the glass of champagne on the nearby table. The smell of alcohol was almost impossible to get out of clothes, and she wasn't sure what sort of fabric Ms. Diaz was wearing, but it was probably expensive. As Siemens turned to fling the contents of the glass, Charlotte bumped his arm, knocking the glass to the ground and shattering it.

Silence filled the room, and Charlotte hummed softly, "Oh my…"

Siemens turned to her with a snarl. "You clumsy-!"

"von Siemens, Ms. Diaz!" Ciel snapped. "This is a banquet! That is enough from the both of you for today. Charlotte, clean up this mess and-"

"You old pervert!" Grimsby yelled from across the room; talk about a delayed reaction. "Don't you dare touch my woman!" He grabbed a bottle of high, premium-quality wine from a bucket of ice, and threw it at Siemens with enough accuracy and force that von Siemens would most likely have been severely concussed, comatose, or dead.

Charlotte watched the incoming projectile with interest, and blinked in surprise when Sebastian leaped overhead, intercepted the bottle, uncorked it, landed on a heretofore unseen stepladder, and then proceeded to pour the sparkling liquid into an equally heretofore unseen tower of wineglasses.

He smiled down at the gathering. "This is a fantastic wine from the village of Purcari in south-eastern Moldova," he said to them. "Ladies and gentlemen, please enjoy it."

Charlotte sniffed the air, taking in the gentle scent of wildflowers. She glanced down at the glass pieces on the floor and the slowly spreading puddle. "It seems you have a penchant for trouble," Sebastian commented while she mopped.

"I feel like you said something similar not too long ago," she replied. "Look, you have an admirer tonight. Why don't you leave me alone?"

Sebastian glanced over his shoulder at Ms. Irene Diaz, who was watching him back. She smiled tentatively, and he gave her a practiced one in return before turning back to Charlotte. "Is that jealousy I hear?"

She stopped working, and stared up at him with an expression that told him that she had absolutely no idea what to do with his question. Then she scoffed, shook her head, and kept mopping. When she was done, she dumped the glass pieces in the dustbin at the edge of the room, and made her way back to Ciel and Sebastian. She was surprised to realise that they were speaking in near flawless French.

" _So once that solemn man gets some alcohol into him, this is how he becomes?_ _From the looks of it, he's a repeat offender._ "

" _Even so,_ " Sebastian replied. " _Showing how little self-constraint one has...I wonder whether he's just an immense fool, or if he really knows no shame at all._ "

" _Oh my goodness, are we speaking French now?_ " She chirruped, surprising them. " _I didn't know either of you spoke French! But really, what a shameless old letch._ "

" _I wasn't aware that you spoke French either,_ " Ciel narrowed his eyes at her. Charlotte batted her lashes innocently, and he sighed. " _But you're not wrong. He's definitely the incurable type of drunk. Any doctor would deem him a hopeless case._ "

Someone chuckled, and Charlotte turned to see Arthur snickering to himself. Smirking, Ciel pretended to shush him, like they were two friends sharing a secret. Charlotte laughed louder and walked away, already looking forward to the rest of the night.


	13. V Murderous Intent

**Murderous Intent**

* * *

~O~

 _"When the Fox hears the Rabbit scream he comes a-runnin', but not to help."_

 _-Thomas Harris, The Silence of the Lambs-_

~O~

* * *

"Is Lord Siemens asleep?" Charles Grey and the other guests stared at the snoring, red faced man. Charlotte tutted quietly to herself, wondering how much he'd drunk to get himself so sloshed on the wine. She herself had taken a glass, unwilling to miss out on an opportunity to taste such a first-rate drink.

The clock chimed 11 o'clock, marking the late hour, and most of the guests had settled down to talk, or sip their drinks quietly and listen to others talk. Ciel paused in his discussion with Lau, "Sebastian, please escort the lord to his room. I'll take my leave as well."

"Earl, you're going to bed already?" Lau said with exaggerated surprised. Ciel only shrugged good-naturedly.

"It's well past bedtime for a child like me," he replied, and then he raised his voice to address the rest of the guests. "Everyone, please relax and enjoy your night."

Charlotte watched him go over the rim of her empty glass, and giggled to herself. "Ch-Charlotte?" She turned her head to Mey-Rin who avoiding her eyes and clutching a tray of empty wineglasses. "We need to start cleaning up."

"Yes, yes, I know," she dropped her glass on Mey-Rin's tray, and walked over to the messy buffet table. As she did, she caught sight of Charles Grey staring for several long moments at the door Ciel and Sebastian had just exited through. Charlotte didn't look away when his eyes drifted and caught her own, and simply arched an eyebrow at him.

Charles narrowed her eyes at her, huffed, and turned away to play billiards with the other guests.

Mind whirling thoughtfully, the maid made her way to the kitchen, balancing two glass-laden trays in both hands and humming to herself. She paused to stare at Mey-Rin moping in the corner with her head buried in her arms, and went to dump her cargo into the sink.

Sebastian appeared over an hour later to assist with the cleaning up. "How is the young master?" She asked as she scrubbed flecks of food from the china dishes.

"He is as he always is," Sebastian replied just as placidly. He looked pretty amused by her question, and Charlotte rolled her eyes. "I take it you're impatient?"

"Ding-ding-ding, you would be right! Come on, where's the adventure I signed up for? I expected someone to be dead by now!"

Just then a bell began to ring from the alarm system located right outside the kitchen. Sebastian sighed quietly as Charlotte's face split into a wide, gleeful grin. Mey-Rin roused herself from her pity-party and poked her head out of the kitchen to check which room needed assistance.

She immediately stumbled backwards as if the contraption was going to attack her. "It's Lord Siemen!" She panicked and scrambled further into the kitchen, ducking behind the island table. "Oh, I don't want to go…" she whimpered.

Charlotte's arm shot up like a schoolchild answering a question. "I'll go! Pick me! Let me go!"

Sebastian levelled her with a hard stare. Charlotte pouted but lowered her hand. "I'm almost tempted _not_ to let you come along," he told her, "but since Mey-Rin seems so averse to it…then I suppose you might as well come along…" The maid beamed and spun around dizzyingly while he undid his apron and draped it on one the back of one of the kitchen chairs. "At any rate, he seemed really drunk," Sebastian caught her by the shoulder, forcing her stop. "Fetch a jug of water. Mey-Rin, you can take over the washing up."

The hallways seemed to shake, and magnified the sound of the thunder rolling through the sky. Purple flashes of lightning lit up the walls. Charlotte loved to watch storms, the wilder the better. "What a terrible storm," Bard commented idly.

"Maybe it's a sign," Charlotte skipped ahead, whistling a merry tune softly until she reached the door of the room. She rocked back and forth on the balls and heels of her feet as Sebastian knocked politely, "Master Georg? Did you call?"

There was no response for a moment, and then the silence was broken by the sound of something shattering on the ground, and someone screaming in agony. "Master Siemens?" Bard stepped forward and banged harder on the door. "What's wrong? _Master Siemens!_ "

The shouting soon drew the rest of the guests, who hadn't been asleep and had still been in the recreational room. "He's not answering," Sebastian narrowed his eyes. He took a step back, and with two hard kicks, the door caved in to reveal a grisly sight.

Lord Siemens sat slumped in an armchair in front of his room fire; his eyes sightless, and his torso completely drenched in blood. The guests erupted into screams of horror were loud and, and Irene nearly fainted at the sight. Oddly enough, the only people not utterly terrified by the sight before them were Sebastian, Charles Grey, and Charlotte, who was doing her best not to start grinning dementedly at the corpse.

"Excuse me!" Recovering quickly, Arthur broke through the panicked crowd and knelt beside the body. His fingers easily found the place where the pulse should have beat at the underside of his wrist. "My god," he spoke after a moment in a hushed voice. "He's _dead!_ "

"Oh my…" Grimsby held onto Irene to keep her from falling over in dead faint.

There was a clatter of approaching footsteps, and then Mey-Rin and Finny came running into the room. They stumbled to a stop at the sight before them, and Mey-Rin covered her mouth with her hands. "I-Is he…?"

"Yes," Arthur nodded, closing the dead man's unseeing eyes. "Most likely caused by blood loss stemming from the wound in his chest. It must have been near instantaneous…"

Charlotte was about to raise her hand to suggest taking a better look at the wound – she'd been around dead people for a long time but they never stopped fascinating her – when Bard spoke. "I can't be certain because it's dark," he wiped his brow, turning to Sebastian. "But isn't it kinda hot in this room?"

The inhabitants in the room took stock of the temperature. It had long bypassed cozy, and instead the inside of the room felt very uncomfortable despite the cold, stormy weather. Sebastian nodded thoughtfully and glanced at the lit fireplace. "Yes, it is. I heated up the room beforehand, but this is..." he shrugged helplessly. "Maybe he was cold?"

"What's all of this racket?" All heads swung to the door when Ciel appeared, drawn to the scene by the incessant noise. Behind him stood Tanaka, holding a lit candlestick to light the way. "What is going o-!"

The earl froze when he noticed the dead body occupying the room. His face paled dramatically, and his eyes widened in total shock. Grimsby swallowed several times, and then attempted to be the blustering voice of reason.

"A-At any rate," he started. "We shouldn't move anything until the Yard arrives-"

"No," Bard interrupted him. "It'd be better if we moved the body now. There's no polite way to say thing, but meat rots faster than you might think. Even if we turn off the fire, he'll start going off pretty quickly if he stays next to the hearth."

Irene's lily-white cheeks went ashen. "R-Rot, you say?" She swayed in Grimsby's arms, and he had to grab hold of the delicate woman once again before she fell over. Charlotte almost rolled her eyes, before she realised that it might be best to play along.

"I suggest we move him to a cool, dark place," Arthur said decisively, rising to his feet. "At least until an expert can take a look at him and perform a proper autopsy."

"In that case, we'll move him to the cellar until the Yard arrives," Sebastian agreed. Finny and Tanaka were entrusted with the task of carrying the portly corpse down to the cellars. While they were gone, the rest of the visitors stood in nervous silence, eying each other or keeping their eyes averted entirely.

A fork of lightning lit up the sky, and Lau tutted. "The Yard won't be showing up for a while," he said, pushing the heavy green curtain aside just as thunder hit. "It is quite a storm, isn't it?"

" _So you mean we can't leave here either?!_ " Woodley screamed. Charlotte and Ran-Mao blinked at him placidly. Clearly he was the sort of man used to getting his way, the elements be damned. This unforeseen and threatening turn of events had begun to chip at whatever pedestal he put himself on. "I am _not_ staying at a place where a murder took place!"

"Indeed," the corners of Lau's mouth lifted with amusement. "We are surely on the shores of a deserted island. This also means that there is a good chance that the killer is still inside the mansion."

Apparently that little tidbit had yet to occur to everyone, and they all froze. A silky voice spoke up. "Now that you mention it," Charles Grey stared round at the gathered guests with a too calm expression. "If you think about it logically, then wouldn't the killer be one of us?"

"What!?" Grimsby yelled, his voice the loudest amongst the panicked whimpers. "Why us?! Don't be ridiculous!"

"Most of us have only just met," Arthur pointed out, "it doesn't seem like any of us would have a motive."

Irene suddenly gasped in realisation, "Wait! When we first arrived, the door was locked right?" She glanced at Sebastian who nodded in confirmation. "Then isn't it possible that someone broke in through the window, locked the door to give them enough time for an escape, and then left through the window again?"

"I don't think so," Grey walked over to the rain-smeared windows that opened out onto the narrow balcony that held barely enough space for a single person to stand on. He rapped the glass lightly with his knuckles. "If you came inside in this sort of rain, wouldn't you leave tracks? Besides, this room is on the second floor, and the windows are locked."

"So someone locked it from the hallway and escaped that way?" Grimsby suggested.

"That is also highly unlikely," Sebastian shook his head determinedly. He explained that all of the room keys were locked in a safe, the key of which was still in his possession. "We haven't issued any spare room keys to any of our guests. Instead, all of the rooms have a latch which can only be fastened from the inside." He gestured to the bent latch just barely attached to the broken door. "From the way this is broken, it's clear the door was locked before I kicked it down. Which means…"

Lau giggled, "It looks like we have a 'locked room murder'!"

"Don't be ridiculous!" Woodley snapped. "This isn't some penny dreadful!"

"No, clearly not," Ciel yawned. "If anyone published such a crude locked-room-drama, they would surely get complaints. Don't you agree, Professor?"

Arthur jumped when he was addressed by the earl, but quickly caught on to what he was saying. "Ah, that's right! A needle and thread could easily do the job!"

"A needle and thread…?" Charlotte cocked her head curiously.

Arthur turned to her, once again subconsciously unsettled by the way she moved, but put at ease by her big, blue eyes.

"It's a cliché in mystery novels," the young earl answered before he could. "If you have those, then you could easily open the doors from outside. You'd first have to anchor the latch by jamming a threaded needle in its side, and then run the thread under and outside the door. When you're finished, you could simply shut the door and pull the needle free, the latch would fall back into place. I can only assume that's what happened, since the door wasn't locked with the key."

Charlotte nodded at his explanation, looking disturbingly contemplative.

"In mystery novels, it's the oldest trick in the book," he went on, folding his thin arms across his chest. "But the criminal here isn't looking to write a book. It's more likely that this is some sort of distraction, a realistic smoke-screen."

"That certainly explains the locked room murder," Lau hummed, brow furrowed.

"But it also means that anyone could be the killer," Arthur pointed out. Charlotte winced almost imperceptibly as the room was suddenly filled with the loud voices of Woodley and Grimsby rushing to claim their own innocence, and hurl blame at each other instead. From the way they snarled at one another, they appeared almost ready to come to blows.

"Now, now," Lau attempted to diffuse the situation before it got even more violent and out of hand. "Let's hear everyone's alibis, shall we?"

The company calmed down at the suggestion. Charlotte had observed many times that humans typically liked being told what to do, because it meant they could hand their agency over to someone else and simply follow instructions that they hope will convey them to an acceptable conclusion.

At any rate, alibis were a good idea. The simple process of elimination would narrow down the suspects faster, and make everyone feel a little safer. "Now let's see," Lau pressed his palms together beneath the wide sleeves he was wearing, "Lord Siemens was killed after he had retired to go to his room, which puts his time of death somewhere between the moment he rang the servants' bell, and when the servants arrived at his room. If you have an alibi to cover that time, then you're safe."

Irene Diaz and Grimsby Keane had been in the billiards room, along with Charles Grey, Mr. Phelps (who Charlotte had only just realised had actually _fainted_ at the sight of the dead body) and Arthur Conan Doyle.

Lau, Ran-Mao and Woodley had been in the lounge, along with Sebastian.

Bard, Mey-Rin, Finny, and Charlotte had been cleaning up in the kitchen.

Once it was confirmed that everyone had being occupied during the time of the murder, the tension in the air seemed to relax. "Besides," Grimsby pointed out, thinking clearer now. "None of us even knew what room Siemens was staying in. Finding him in such a large mansion would take quite some time, right?"

So the murderer would have had to be someone who understood and could therefore perform a Locked Room scenario, knowledge of Lord Siemen's bedroom, and no alibi. Coincidentally, all of that incriminating evidence pointed right to Ciel.

 _Oh la la!_ Charlotte thought delightedly. _The plot thickens! What an exciting development!_

"I hope you'll pardon the implication, Earl," Charles said just as silkily as before, "but what were you doing during that time?"

Ciel's jaw tightened at the thinly veiled accusation. "I was sleeping in my room," he replied.

"Can you prove that?" Charles asked, and the earl was forced to shake his head in response. "So for now, that makes you the prime suspect." Charles smiled, and his expression was unnecessarily pleased. Cocking her head again, Charlotte came to the quiet realisation that she didn't like the oily man.

"Certainly I am the only one who hasn't got an alibi," Ciel inclined his head. "But I don't have any reason to kill the lord."

"Well, you can't say that there was 'no reason' at all," Lau pointed out wisely. "Most of the reasons for someone to kill another are reasons that seem utterly inconceivable to other people. It doesn't matter how many times a scientist studies it, the psychology of a person is something that cannot be comprehended by other people. Besides, your company has a branch in Germany, does it not? There could have been some memos outside of the official books with a major bank executive from Germany, like him."

For the first time Ciel looked genuinely annoyed."Are you suggesting that my Funtom Company is in some horrible debt? That is absurd."

"It's not unrealistic though," Lau shrugged, "No matter how big a company is, there are times when all of it can vanish overnight…"

"Wait a minute!" Finny interrupted, his blue eyes wide and shining with tears, "I don't understand all the complicated stuff, but the young master would never-!"

"Finny, enough."

Finny's mouth clicked shut at the coolly spoken order. He immediately retreated, now radiating such misery that even Charlotte felt a little twinge in her non-existent heart. The silence that followed his outburst was tense and uncomfortable, and then Grey spoke. "I'd like to offer some insurance. Insurance that we'll get out of here alive, that is," he added. "Since the mansion is currently under the control of a killer, and we can't leave until the storm settles, what if we _gagged_ him before the storm settles?"

"Let's lock him up then!" Lau chirped excitedly.

" _Lock him up?!_ " The three servants yelled. " _Why would we lock up the young master?!_ "

"Eh? But he's scary!"

"If it makes you feel any better," Ciel heaved a put upon sigh. "Then go ahead."

"If we're going to confine him, then it can't be in his own room," Grey noted, "The rooms of nobles generally have some kind of secret escape route built in. My place has them too."

Charlotte thought of the many vents and tunnels that linked throughout the whole of the manor, and even Sebastian acknowledged this with a nod. "Very well then, we'll keep an eye on him while attending to his-"

"That won't do either," Lau cut him off, "You're his servants. You might help the earl escape."

"In that case, it would be best if one of the guests stayed with him to keep watch," Grey turned expectantly to Irene, Grimsby, and Woodley.

Grimsby immediately went pale, and wrapped his arms around his lady. "No, thank you!" He snapped, puffing up like a pigeon. "Like I would leave Irene all by herself in this manor!"

"I-I just can't!" Woodley's excuse was less imaginative.

"I don't want to either!" Lau chimed in, and the tone of his voice made it clear that he'd long since ceased taking the situation seriously.

Arthur wondered in the privacy of his own mind just how and why he had been forced into this situation and role. "I don't particularly want to either," he admitted with a resigned exhale, "But someone has to do it." He didn't believe the Earl had actually murdered Siemens – for God's sake he was a 12 year old child! The logistics alone made his involvement unlikely – but his incarceration seemed to calm everyone else.

The blonde maid smiled at him sweetly, "Take good care of him then, Mr. Doyle!"


	14. VI Time Is Of The Essence

**Time Is Of The Essence**

* * *

~O~

 _"Why does anyone commit murder?" he asked in a low voice._  
 _I blinked. "How should I know?"_  
 _"Three reasons," Christopher said. He held up one finger. "Love." Another finger. "Revenge." And finally, a third finger. "Profit..."  
_

 _-Meg Cabot, Runaway-_

~O~

* * *

Charlotte changed into her pale pink nightdress and sat on her bed brushing and twisting her long blonde hair into a braid while Mey-Rin tiptoed warily around the room and slipped under her covers. Charlotte let her mind run lazily over the events of the night. She found it so funny that a medical professional like Mr. Doyle hadn't picked up on Lord Siemens's wound, although to be fair he was an optometrist, and not a general practitioner. Still, it should have been a basic observation.

The puppet finished tying back her hair, and pulled her covers over herself. She willed the clockwork mechanisms keeping her up and awake to wind down, and fell asleep to the crashing of the storm outside her window.

She then awoke about an hour or so later to the sound of someone knocking at the bedroom door. Hedonistic laziness demanded that she ignore the visitor, but curiousity roused her to waking. Who could be knocking on their door so late at night? Maybe the killer? She wanted to see.

The knocking came again, slightly more impatient this time. From the bed beside hers came a quiet grunt as Mey-Rin began to shift and stir. "Hmm? Ugh, who is it...?" She muttered groggily, sitting up in bed and pawing at her bedside table for her glasses.

Charlotte giggled softly, "It's the door. Apparently someone wants to see one of us so late at night, and can't wait until morning. Now who could it be?" She hummed thoughtfully.

Mey-Rin froze, and the hand with her glasses began to tremble. "Y-You don't think-!"

"I don't know who it could be, but there is a killer on the loose," Charlotte shrugged nonchalantly. "I'm just saying, don't be in so much of a hurry to open to open the door to strangers at night."

The knocking continued, harder this time. Charlotte heaved a graceful sigh, and slipped out of her bed. She found her slippers on the floor, and her robe hanging on the door, and padded over to the locked door. "Sorry for the wait…"

Instead of a killer – to her mild disappointment – the late visitor was revealed to just be Sebastian glaring down at her, and holding a large birdcage with an owl perched inside. It hooted softly, and Charlotte was immediately riveted by the soft white feathers.

"Sorry about the hour," Sebastian apologised, shifting the cage to the arm further away from Charlotte. "I hope you'll forgive me for disturbing you both in such a manner."

" _S-S-S-S-Sebastian!?_ " Mey-Rin squeaked, her face flaming bright red. " _W-W-What is it at this time of the night? Y-You c-couldn't be sneaking in for you-know-wha-!_ "

Sebastian cut her off quickly before her panicked squealing could rouse the whole household, or before she gave herself some sort of aneurysm. "There is something I'd like for you to do first thing in the morning," he told them.

"First thing in the morning?" Mey-Rin calmed down and asked.

Sebastian stepped a little further into the room, and passed the birdcage over Charlotte and into Mey-Rin's surprised arms. "Please release this bird at dawn," he instructed her. "There is an important letter wrapped around its leg."

"A letter, you say?" The redhead repeated inquisitively, looking between Sebastian and the bird with an expression of bemusement. "For who?"

"It's better that you don't know," Sebastian replied shortly. "However, I'm sure there'll be a time when it will come in handy. Do it immediately at dawn, do I make myself clear?" Mey-Rin nodded silently, while Charlotte rolled her eyes and mouthed French insults behind his back. "Well then, I will excuse myself. I'm sorry about the late hour. From now on however," he glanced over his shoulder and smiled at the two women, "you shouldn't open your bedroom door so freely at this time of night, especially without first identifying who it is. You are ladies after all."

Charlotte spat a French expletive after him, and slammed the door shut before his back was turned. She flounced back to her bed, huffing angrily, although she soon distracted herself with the beautiful snowy owl while Mey-Rin was having that delayed aneurysm.

She didn't bother going back to sleep after that. It was fortunate that Sebastian had come when he had, otherwise she would have slept right through the fun part. Once Mey-Rin had fallen back asleep, Charlotte slipped into the vent in their room and spider-crawled through the mazelike manor until she reached the wine cellar.

The sound of someone snoring loudly echoed off the stone walls, and her nose prickled with the potent scent of newly poured wine. Siemens lay on the ground, clutching a half-empty bottle of wine to his chest. Charlotte repressed her amused snicker, getting put in the wine cellar must have been the best thing to happen to him all day. Yet, how unspeakably rude to sample what hasn't yet been offered to you.

The door of the cellar swung open, and someone walked inside the room, their footsteps quiet on the stone floor. Charlotte rotated her neck a little to see who it was, and only had to catch a glimpse of the snow white hair for her to put a face to the killer.

Charles Grey stared with cold disgust at the sleeping drunkard. The night hadn't gone at all like he'd wanted. He'd planned to draw this out a little longer, drag that brat of an earl down a few pegs _before_ killing the butler, but he'd underestimated the Phantomhive and he'd been forced to improvise.

He kicked Siemens' foot, and he spluttered awake, sloshing wine on the ground. "Huh? Oh…oh! Earl Grey!" He slurred, waking up a little more. "It looks like things went well! Was everyone surprised? Ha, when I woke up there was so much wine around me, I decided to drink a little in celebration!" He prepared to take another sip straight from the bottle, and then he felt the rapier stab through his chest right where the false bloodstain was.

"Shut that fat mouth," Grey muttered, twisting the blade and pushing it further. He looked on with detached eyes as Siemens coughed up blood. "You're just obnoxious scum, do you really think you dim-witted Germans could possibly catch up to Britain? Heh, you're about ten years too early."

Siemens body slid off his sword with a slick crunch. Grey grabbed the cloth and tossed it back over him. That was when he heard it: a giggle.

Grey froze as the high-pitched laughter spiralled around him. The stone walls echoed the sound, and shock muddled his senses, so that he couldn't be certain of where the noise was coming from. "Who the hell is here?" He snarled, tightening his grip on his sword. "Show yourself!"

As soon as he said that, the laughter disappeared, and he heard rustling getting further and further away. His eyes snapped to the vents in disbelief. No one could fit through those vents! Not even Ciel, the smallest person in the building, and that was impossible because the earl was chained up!

Grey wrestled with himself for a moment, and then spat a curse. Whoever it was, he would find them and dispose of them.

Charlotte dragged herself out of the vent, still cackling quietly to herself. My oh my, what a surprising twist! To think that Charles Grey, the Queen's esteemed butler was the one behind Siemens' fake-then-not-so-fake death. She wondered if Ciel or Sebastian knew, and then decided that it didn't matter. Whether they did or did not, she was almost certain that they wouldn't tell her, but there was nothing stopping her from finding out for herself. Death was the family business after all.

Smiling to herself, Charlotte played with the owl until well into the morning, until the first strains of dawn's light began to stream in through the windows. Mey-Rin was still slumbering away, so Charlotte pushed open the little window of the room, and released the catch on the cage. The owl fluffed its feathers once more, and screeched quietly, looking put out with the idea of flying through the rain.

"I understand your pain," Charlotte murmured as she stroked the feathers and let the owl nip playfully at her fingers, "but for the sake of the plot."

Giving one more look of discontent to the falling rain, the owl finally took off, spreading its large wings and soaring high into the stormy sky until it disappeared beyond the trees and clouds. Once her task was complete Charlotte bathed and dressed, and then left the room for Lord Siemens's.

The inside of the manor was peacefully quiet, the only sounds being the raindrops splashing against the walls and roof. The hallways and unused rooms were dim and cold from the rain and the early hour. Through the windows Charlotte caught weak glimpses of the sun rising between the pink-tinged grey clouds. Dust had collected on the sills, and while it was her duty to clean them, Charlotte had the distinct feeling that Sebastian wouldn't be able to scold her.

A few minutes later the doll stared silently at the dead body of the butler lying in a pool of his own blood. His neck was twisted to the side and she could see the shrunken pupils and the blood-covered mouth. There was a cold poker sticking out of his chest.

She almost burst out laughing again, but managed to stifle it in case she woke someone up. "My, my, my, isn't this interesting? A dead demon!" She walked over and stood at his side. She dropped gracefully to her knees, keeping her clothes free of his blood. "You know, my papa always told me you had red blood like humans, but I never believed him. Guess we learn something new every day!"

She tapped his nose with her pointer finger, smiled, and then began to scream.

The sudden shrill shriek woke almost everyone in the house at once, and they immediately came running to see what was wrong. "What the hell happened?" Bard yelled, running into the room. "Charlotte, what-? My god…"

Mey-Rin choked on her own scream. Tears began to run down her cheeks. Deciding that she'd screamed enough, Charlotte pretended to collapse from shock and exhaustion, and was caught gallantly by Ran-Mao.

Murmurs of horror and sobs of pain filled the small bedroom. "Wh-What do we tell the young master?" Mey-Rin bawled.

Her question never received an answer, and seeing as it was a mostly rhetorical question it likely never would have, as a moment later Ciel appeared in the doorway of the room. His dark blue eyes were wide with disbelief, and he was shaking.

"Sebastian...?" His voice sounded soft and hollow. He staggered forward slowly, like he was in a trance, and then jerked when Mey-Rin grabbed his arm to stop him getting any closer. He swung his free arm at her, smacking her away. "Let go of me!"

"Young master..."

The sound of his small feet pressing into the blood-soaked carpet was quiet but audible in the thick silence. "Sebastian, stop fooling around," Ciel murmured in that quiet voice. "Sleeping on the floor doesn't look all that comfortable to me. Exactly how long were you planning to be asleep?" When the butler did not respond, he suddenly stepped on Sebastian's chest and yanked the poker out. "I said _get up. Wake up! That's an order! Wake up this instant!_ "

Charlotte watched the dramatics from the sidelines, internally applauding Ciel's talent for the theatrical arts. With everyone's eyes on the spectacle or pointed down, she felt free enough to let her gaze wander over to Charles Grey who was the only one who looked calm and unaffected.

He folded his arms over his chest and stepped forward, breaking the silence that had fallen over everyone else. "If we leave him here he'll start to rot. It'd probably be better if we moved him."

Bard agreed, and Mey-Rin restrained Ciel while Arthur stepped forward to begin a quick autopsy. Charlotte ran her fingers through her hair and glanced at Lau when he hummed softly to himself. "Oh my," he murmured. "It would have been impossible for the confined earl to have committed this murder, right?" He smiled, and Charlotte felt an odd flare of kinship with the Chinese man. "Things just got interesting…"

Arthur lifted Sebastian's head up to examine it from all sides. "Aside from the poker, there are also signs of trauma in the head," he noted, feeling around the area with firm but gentle fingers. "He must have been hit from behind while collecting the ashes."

"Either that," Grey said, "or they just kept attacking without checking to see if he was already dead. Two hits would be more likely to kill him than just one."

"Still, it is strange," the author spoke thoughtfully, "even though he didn't die from the blow to the back of his head, why did the killer go out of his way to stab him from the front?"

"It does make more sense to attack from the same angle a second time," Bard nodded in agreement. "Unless you're fast enough."

"Or unless there were multiple culprits," the doctor proposed. His suggestion filled the room with a fresh burst of fear. "For example," he continued, "one of them could come up in front of him and distract him, while the other attacked from behind. Then the one in front could finish up the job by stabbing him."

"Two murderers?" Charles repeated quietly. He rubbed his chin as he recalled the high-pitched laughter that had filled the cellar during the night. "Interesting."

Lau shrugged carelessly. "Well, no matter how it happened, it's certain that this killer didn't feel any mercy or hesitation. To have killed even that butler, the culprit must be extremely…"

" _Stop it already!_ " Finny shouted, hugging Ciel tightly to his chest. " _Why are you having this conversation in front of the young master?_ _Please think of his feelings!_ "

"Finny!" Mey-Rin shouted, cutting him off, though he made a somewhat good point. She bowed. "Please excuse him!"

Bard and Finny, prompted by Grey's earlier suggestion, decided to move Sebastian's body to the basement with Siemens. Any more discussions would have to take place over a very late breakfast, which would put everyone into a better mood and help them think of what to do.

Tanaka was appointed butler in Sebastian's place, a position he had once held under the previous Phantomhive patriarch, and he quickly herded the servants to their duties. Charlotte grimaced as she dusted the windowsills, but couldn't help liking the wrinkled, grandfatherly old butler just a little. He'd never looked frightened when she rotated her head or removed her limbs.

Brunch was a very tense affair for most of the guests. On one side of the table sat Irene, Grimsby and Woodley eying everyone else with suspicion and fear. On the other sat Lau, Ran-Mao and Charles Grey, smiling and tucking into the quiche and sausages heartily. Arthur sat at one end of the table and simply stared round with a sad expression while picking at his food.

"This smells good~!" Grey cheered, spearing a sausage and some of the quiche with his fork. "I'm really hungry since I didn't get to eat this morning~!"

"Wait a minute," Arthur said suddenly, "that seat…"

The seat beside Irene was empty though there was food in front of it. Someone was missing from the party of guests. "How strange," Irene said, "we're all here, aren't we?Did the chef miscount?"

"The chef was Sebastian," Ciel replied curtly, "and he never makes...made mistakes..."

No one responded for a second, and then Irene gasped in realization. "Oh! Mr. Phelps!"

It said quite a lot about what sort of man Phelps was that no one had noticed his absence at all. "He must be having quite a lie-in," Woodley laughed, though his joke fell a bit flat.

Arthur's chair scraped against the floor as he got to his feet. "Still, would you all mind if we went to check?"

The tense atmosphere that had begun to dissipate returned once again. Charles glanced down at his half-eaten quiche with disappointment, and then decided to bring it along with him. This was so annoying, especially since he was certain that the spineless Phelps was probably hiding in his room trying to avoid the rest of them. Unless he was the second killer or something. The thought was laughable.

They reached the door to Ciel's bedroom – Phelps had been terrified by Siemens death and refused to remain next to him – and Arthur banged on it. "Mr. Phelps! Mr. Phelps are you in there?" There was no response from the other side of the door. "It's locked. Earl, where is the key?"

"I don't know," Ciel replied with uncharacteristic uncertainty. "Sebastian took care of the key to my room. No one knows where he kept it except for him. Since he's dead now, even I don't know where it is."

"Then we'll need to break the door down, right?" Grey spoke around the fork in his mouth. With the hand not holding his plate he pulled his sword from it's scabbard and slashed the door to pieces.

After two murders, Charlotte thought, one would think that people would stop screaming over more. However since Irene had screamed and clutched Grimsby, she was obliged to at least feign a bout of dizziness at the sight of Mr. Phelps's dead body.

Mr. Phelps had died in a manner that was entirely different from the others. There were no signs of a struggle, and no visible signs of trauma or bleeding. The carpet by his face was soaked in saliva. His fingers were clutching the carpet, as though he had been trying to crawl to the door, so he hadn't had proper use of his legs. These were all textbook signs of poisoning, and Charlotte knew one or two things about poison. After all, her best friend worked with snakes for a living.

A brief examination found two small puncture wounds on his neck, side by side and refusing to scab over. "Like he was stabbed by something," he said. "It might be from a needle that was used to inject the poison."

Irene shuddered. "A bite mark in the neck," she whispered. "It sounds just like Carmilla."

"By Carmilla, do you mean Le Fanu's _The Vampire_ Carmilla?" Ciel asked.

"Or it might be a snake," Charlotte suggested, both amused and annoyed by Irene. Honestly the woman was about as helpful as a broken scalpel.

Heads turned to look at her, as this was the first thing she'd said all morning after her screaming fit. "What makes you say that?" Charles narrowed his eyes at her suspiciously.

Charlotte batted her long lashes at him innocently. "It just seemed far more likely than a fictional, bloodsucking creature of the night."

"She's right! Don't be ridiculous!" Woodley snapped. "You can't say that sort of occult, unscientific nonsense in the 19th century!"

"2:38 a.m." They turned to face Arthur who was kneeling by the bed and holding a clock in his hands. It was the small alarm clock that Ciel kept by his bedside. The face was cracked, and the hands had stopped moving. "It probably fell down when he was writhing in pain, putting his time of death at around 2:38 in the morning, just a few hours after Lord Siemens was killed."


	15. VII The Darling Imp

**I hate that I've actually written a Kuroshitsuji fic featuring this arc because I swear I used up all my good writing for it.**

 **The Darling Imp**

* * *

~O~

 _No one will ever know if children are monsters or monsters are children._

 _-Lucio Fulci, The House by the Cemetery-_

~O~

* * *

After carrying Phelps's corpse to the cellar, everyone gathered in the drawing room at Arthur's behest. Since breakfast had been cut short so abruptly, and all the dishes were cold, the servants had hastily brewed a pot of tea and thrown together a modest tea of sandwiches and cream biscuits.

Tensions were high but at least everyone had stopped screaming and hurling accusations across the room. Instead the guests stood or sat silently, eying each other suspiciously which was much quieter and only slightly more civil.

"Piecing your testimonies together," Arthur turned to a fresh page in his notebook and drew a small chart, "we know that the first murder was Lord Siemens at approximately 1:10 a.m. The second was Phelps at roughly 2:38 a.m., making Sebastian the last murder."

"The last murder?" Lau echoed.

Arthur nodded without looking up from whatever he was writing. "Yes, because the servants told me they all saw him during the night."

"It was around 2:50 a.m.," Finny recalled.

"What did he want at that hour?" Ciel asked.

Bard shrugged, his expression one of confusion as he recalled the butler's words. "He asked me to check the food stocks, and told Finny to clean the fireplaces."

"He asked Ms. Charlotte and me to take care of a delivery...owl?" Mey-Rin stuttered and glanced at Charlotte as if hoping the other woman would jump in and explain. Charlotte, who had been examining a lock of her hair for imaginary split ends only shrugged.

Ciel's eyes narrowed even more. "An owl?"

"As opposed to pigeons, owls can fly through storms," Bard folded his arms across his chest. "It's just like him to think of everything." His tone was admiring and trailed off into melancholy.

Grey frowned, sliding his gaze over to the two female servants. "What was in the letter?" He quizzed in a tone that belied none of his real feelings. The blonde shot him a diffident smile and shrugged again, her movements smooth and almost languorous.

"I don't know, Master Grey," she replied apologetically. "We didn't look at it."

Charles fought the urge to scowl at her. Something about her made the hairs on his skin stand on end, like he was looking at something that was just ever so slightly _wrong_. A flash of lightning lit up the sky, followed by a rolling crash of thunder.

"Maybe he sent a letter to the police," Arthur suggested, fixated on his own musings. In a storm of this calibre most methods of communication would be useless; sending an owl was a brilliant, if rather unorthodox manner of sending a distress call, which meant it was entirely in-keeping with Sebastian's personality. "If we write out the times of death, as well as everyone's alibis, we get this."

Arthur held up his notebook, revealing a small grid with their names and little noughts and crosses to show who and who didn't have an alibi for each death. Put together it told the following:

Ciel Phantomhive was the only one who could have killed Lord Siemens, but he'd been chained up all through the night when Phelps and Sebastian had been murdered. Everyone had an alibi for Phelps's murder except Sebastian, and none of them had an alibi for Sebastian's murder barring Arthur and Ciel.

 _Goodness, how thorough._ Charlotte watched the statement sink home and decided that she quite liked the writer – no, _wordsmith_. He was like a character in one of her favourite stories.

"However, if Sebastian was the last to be killed, then the story becomes far more complex," Arthur pulled the notebook back and studied it. "The only ones who could lock the earl's room were Mr. Phelps, as he was already inside the room and Sebastian because he had the key. That would imply, logically, that Sebastian was the killer. However, Sebastian was killed."

Lau smiled beatifically, as though they were all playing a particularly riveting logic puzzle. "Maybe the butler joined up with someone and together they committed the murders. Then, afterwards, they quarrelled over the rewards and so he was silenced." A particularly riveting, _grisly_ logic puzzle, Charlotte giggled softly and covered it up with a cough and an suitably maidenly expression of wide-eyed nervousness.

"That seems wholly unlikely. Furthermore," Ciel dismissed the suggestion and arched one lazy eyebrow at Lau. "You walk around carrying a needle in those dragging sleeves of yours, do you not?"

At first there were collective murmurs which turned to shouts of shock when Lau just laughed and nodded, pulling out a rather long, thin needle from the inside of one of his wide sleeves. Charlotte's eyes widened in surprised delight, she hadn't known those things had _pockets_ in them!

"Yes, I am carrying one," he held it up like it was nothing. "It's used in oriental medicine to administer drugs and also in acupuncture."

" _Y-You killed Phelps!_ " Woodley and Grimsby turned on him like scared wild dogs. "You bastard! You searched the earl's room just now, didn't you? Are you sure you weren't just destroying evidence _?_ "

"Oh my~," the Chinese man didn't look at all frightened by their anger despite the fact that both looked ready to tear him apart out of fear alone. It had been a trying few hours after all. "Aren't you being a bit too rash about this?" Lau said in that same calm voice. "Think about it gentlemen; how do you think I could have made a locked room murder from that far-off, walk-in closet? There's no door going outside there and even though we're Chinese it's not like we can just pass through ventilation shafts or something."

Charlotte coughed again and this time she had to hide her snickers in her sleeves lest she give the game away. Ciel shot her a quick glare over his teacup.

"Besides," he continued, stroking Ran-Mao's shoulder soothingly. "I have an alibi for the time Lord Siemens was murdered anyway. Aw, but Earl~," he grinned at Ciel. "You're such a bully~. You don't need to take revenge on me now you know."

"Do I really need to hear that from the person who suggested that I be chained to my own bed?" Ciel asked rhetorically. He took another sip of his tea, less because he wanted to and more because it was getting cold and it just seemed to be the thing to do. It wasn't made the way he liked; you could say what you liked about demonic help and revenge-fuelled Faustian contracts, at least they came with good tea.

"Well, in any case," he took another sip of tea and finally just put it down. "There's no one who could have killed all three even if they had teamed up with Sebastian. I was just teasing you."

"That's true! No one person could have killed all three of them!" Arthur exclaimed. "Even if they _had_ worked with Sebastian, it would be impossible for a single person to cause this string of murders!"

Woodley spoke up immediately. "If it's impossible to do alone, then the people who came in pairs are the criminals!"

Charlotte sighed and wished for a bag of peanuts to munch on and throw at the cast. Goodness these accusations were getting boring. Grimsby leapt to his feet, teeth bared in a furious snarl. "Are you kidding me?! On top of being trapped in here, I'm being treated as a criminal?!" He looked ready to launch himself at the businessman's neck if not for Irene who had her arms wrapped around his waist. Charlotte wanted to ask her to back off; at least if the situation got violent it would serve to liven up things a little.

"Please calm down!" Arthur said, holding his hands up in a pointless attempt at somehow placating the situation. "I'm not saying that it's as simple as tha–"

" _Simple or not, I don't care! I've had enough!_ " Fists slammed down onto the table, causing the china and silverware to jump and clatter against the mahogany. Ciel and Charlotte's eyes widened at the barbaric treatment of the furniture. " _I don't want to stay in this godforsaken place!_ "

"Where are you going to go?" The earl asked coolly with an undertone that was only just somewhat mocking. "In this weather? Under these circumstances I'd like you to refrain from acting on your own."

Woodley rounded on him, eyes wide and dilated, his teeth bared like an animal that had been poked and prodded and backed into a tight corner. There were no peanuts but the tea sandwiches were very good. "You're saying that to _me?! You're the one that's-!_ "

He stopped, stopped by whatever meagre bit of self-preservation he had left. Ciel steepled his fingers and leaned forward, his eyes wide in a _do go on_ sort of way.

Woodley grappled silently with himself, his fingers flexing. Then he cracked and pointed at the young boy with a diamond-laden finger. " _I-I know! It was you who planned this all along, wasn't it?_ "

A loud crack of lightning punctuated the end of his declaration, for a split-second moment illuminating Ciel's face and making it look terrifyingly otherworldly. In the lamplight the boy's smile looked sweet, amused. "I'm not sure what you're trying to say, but please calm down," he said earnestly.

" _You wanted to finish us off from the beginning, so you gathered us here!_ " Woodley screamed, his voice rising in pitch and growing almost unhinged. " _You, the Queen's Guard Dog!_ "

The silence after this was thick and punctuated only by harsh pants but no flash of lightning or thunder. Arthur looked confused. Everyone else was watching with bated breath.

Ciel and Woodley stared at each other, and then the latter turned on his heels. "I'm going home," he muttered, turning his back on Ciel like some sort of idiot. "Like I'd let myself be killed!"

"Please wait!" The writer got up to follow him, to get him to sit down and calm down before he got himself hurt or worse. "It's impossible in this storm! You should stay here to avoid suspicion as-!"

Woodley spun around and lashed out blindly, landing a glancing blow on Arthur's face that sent the other man crashing into the table, stunned but not necessarily in pain. Woodley snarled at him. " _I don't take orders from a doctor!_ "

 _Gasp, not the wordsmith! He's my favourite!_ Charlotte thought, not moving an inch other than to take another large bite out of the sandwich in her hand.

Ciel fixed the man with a stern, cold glare. "Woodley," his voice was dark and eerily calm. "The one who's telling you to sit down is me. _So sit down already._ "

The man stiffened, and he spun around, a fist raised. He must have been crazy out of his mind, Charlotte thought, to try to attack the earl in his own home like some sort of idiot. " _Don't order me around!_ "

Before he could even so much as move a grey blur shot in front of him, and in a second he was pinned facedown on the ground by Tanaka.

"My apologies Mr. Woodley," the old butler told him cordially. "While you are within this manor, you will not lay a single hand against the young master. My fellow servants and I do not take kindly to that."

He grunted and tried to get up, but Tanaka's grip was too firm, and he was far too blinded and winded even attempt to throw him off. "Dammit, what the hell is with this place?"

"Wh-What was that? I didn't see him move at all!" Arthur gaped, eyes wide. Despite the blow not being a solid one there was still an impressively dark bruise on his cheek that he appeared to be ignoring.

"I believe it's a style the Japanese call _baritsu_ ," Lau told him. Arthur repeated the word as he jotted it down in his notebook and scooted much closer to him. "I'm sorry, but could you give me more details about this _baritsu_?"

"Tanaka." The butler shifted his eyes to the young master. "You can let him up. He'll behave now, I'm sure." With a nod the butler obeyed and let the much more subdued man get up. Woodley glared at Ciel who ignored him to focus on more important things. "Well then, currently the only one who couldn't have been the criminal is Mr. Wordsmith," he laced his fingers together. "I think it would be safest and fairest to put him in charge of deciding our actions from now on."

The writer started, interrupting his own jottings with a shocked scratch of ink to stare at him with wide eyes. "M- _Me?_ "

Ciel nodded evenly. "Yes. I don't particularly want a criminal prowling around my manor, and you seem to be the one of the few people with a clear head." The suggestion, though it really wasn't one, was met with abashed stares and mumbles of agreement. Ciel nodded sharply, "Then it's decided. There's plenty of time until the storm dies down anyway. Let's thoroughly corner this criminal."

He smiled and all Charlotte could think was that children truly could be the cruellest beings on the earth.

"The thing I'm most stuck on," Arthur began after an uncomfortably long silence during which he seemed to come to some unpleasant decisions about Ciel, "is the whereabouts of the key to the ear's room. According to the original scenario, the only person who killed have killed Mr. Phelps was Sebastian. However, the key might have been passed on to someone else, and that makes the situation far more complex."

"In that scenario," Ciel cocked his head, a small frown on his face. "Would I be right in thinking that the person who currently holds the key and killed Sebastian is the criminal?"

Grey sat up straighter. "Well, first let's confirm whether or not the butler is carrying the key himself. Although there's a possibility that could end our theory entirely…"

"Also," Arthur held up a finger. "When we move, I'd like us to move as a group. Since it would be difficult to ask a woman to accompany us to the storage room, I'd like Ms. Irene to stay here with Mr. Grimsby. Also," he glanced at the other man nervously, "I'd like Mr. Woodley to stay back too."

Woodley huffed and muttered something crude under his breath. In addition to him, Lau and Ran-Mao stayed back as well because they claimed they wanted more tea.

Once that was decided, Bard and Finny led Arthur and Grey down to the cellar storage room while Tanaka, Mey-Rin and Charlotte were left to look after the remaining guests.

Grimsby and Irene huddled together, murmuring and cooing soothingly to each other in a sickening way. Lau on the other hand was poking about the room like it belonged to him, munching cheerfully on a sandwich while Ran-Mao sat sedately on the chair and played Look-Away with Charlotte. It was a very intense match, neither of them had blinked in over a minute.

Charlotte lost when Lau popped up at her side, startling her. "Ms. New Maid! How long have you been working here?"

"Oh, a month or so," she replied, scowling playfully at Ran-Mao whose expression hadn't changed but somehow looked a tiny bit smugger. "My name is Charlotte by the way. Charlotte Blanc."

"Blank?" He repeated, deliberately obtuse. "Or Blanc? You're French then? How interesting! You don't have the accent though."

Charlotte smiled but didn't take the bait. Lau grinned at her and led her to the couch like they were old friends about to catch up. Charlotte poured herself a cup of tea and sipped it – ugh, badly filtered loose leaf tea was the worst – while Lau settled Ran-Mao on his lap. Charlotte chalked their strange dynamic up to them being foreign, and to Lau's seedier occupations.

"So, Ms. Charlotte," he started genially, "why is someone like you working for the little lord?"

"Oh, you know," she replied vaguely, smiling into her tea, "it was available. I couldn't stay on at my old vocation, you see. You could say it was kind of a circus."

He chuckled though he probably didn't get her little joke. "Oh that's too bad, but at least you'll never be bored working here."

"I certainly hope not," Charlotte took another sip of her tea. Honestly this tea was abysmal, why could none of the servants brew a proper pot of tea? She wondered if they could at least do coffee, or hot chocolate with an abundance of sugar and cream. _Mmm…_

Sebastian could probably make some, Charlotte thought. Once this was over she was going to demand a frothy cup of creamy chocolate.

The five men returned a few minutes later with no luck; the key hadn't been anywhere on him. "We should check his bedroom," Arthur suggested next.

Sebastian's room was Spartan in appearance; spotless, spacious, and barely lived-in. To one side was a neatly made bed, and a chest of drawers, and at the other was a cold fireplace, a dry sink, and a wardrobe.

"Let's search in places where one might keep valuables," Grey suggested. Ciel eyed his desk, Bard poked at the clean fireplace, Finny and Arthur peered under the mattress and the bed, and Gray checked his chest of drawers with the same wherewithal that Lau exhibited only his felt much less welcome.

Only the wardrobe was left unopened and unchecked. Charlotte rolled her eyes as she wandered over to it, certain that it was filled with rows and rows of identical black suits and white gloves. And then she shrieked in surprise when several cats came bounding out from the empty closet. They were all different colours, patchworks, stripes, calico designs. Some had one leg or one eye or one ear. Some were still damp from the rain.

Charlotte thought it was the cutest thing she'd ever experienced. At least until Ciel started sneezing and screaming for someone to get the felines out while simultaneously cursing Sebastian's name to high heaven until Arthur escorted him out of the room.

 _Heh, 'high heaven'_. _I'm telling Papa that one._

The cats were finally herded back into the closet, which honestly wasn't as hard as the popular saying had led Charlotte to believe. Not if you had about fifty different catnip toys anyway. Grey peeked into the final drawer, humming quietly. "He really doesn't seem to have a lot of personal items," he picked up one of said cat toys. "Isn't it good to have some things from your original home? Where did he come from anyway?"

 _THE DEPTHS OF HELL_ , Charlotte wants to call out but doesn't.

"No one knows," Bard answers nonchalantly. "None of us servants knows where he came from, or even what he does on his days off. The only thing we do know is that he's ridiculously good at his job."

 _BECAUSE HE'S FROM THE DEPTHS OF HELL._

"Maybe the young master knows about him," Finny piped up, turning to Ciel for more information as he had just come back into the room.

He shrugged, face half covered by a handkerchief. "I don't know either. I don't know what master he served before, or what he did in the past. I never had any interest in that; back then anyone was fine as long as they would be devoted to me and grant my wishes…"

Grey arched an eyebrow. " _Back then?_ " He echoed, prodding. Ciel shot him a dark glare over the top of the cloth and refused to say anymore on the topic. Charlotte stared at the young boy quietly, wondering what his back-story.


	16. VIII Lucky Number Thirteen

**We are getting to the end of this arc soon, and then there'll be the Campania Arc where we'll see Papa Undertaker again!**

 **Lucky Number Thirteen**

* * *

~O~

 _One of us in this very room is in fact the murderer_

 _-Agatha Christie, And Then There Were None-_

~O~

* * *

The key wasn't found in Sebastian's bedroom, so Arthur suggested they check the bedrooms and luggage bags of the guests. This had to be done by gender to avoid embarrassment and maintain decorum so they were split into two groups and headed off.

Irene had the most luggage out of the four of them. She'd come as though she'd planned to spend a week in a lavish country house, with boxes of wide-brimmed hats pinned with feathers, and dresses strewn with glitter and silk. Charlotte and Ran-Mao knelt on the floor, less interested in the search and more interested in the colourful menagerie.

Mey-Rin, ever dutiful maid that she was, peered between the clothes hung up in Irene's closet. Something caught her eye and Irene gasped coquettishly.

"Oh my!" She blushed, "I can't believe I left that out."

It was a photograph of Irene and Grimsby, both dressed primly and smiling genuinely at the camera. "I hadn't heard that you two were in a relationship so yesterday was quite a surprise," Mey-Rin commented as she adjusted her glasses to examine the picture better.

Irene chuckled, embarrassment tinting her cheeks a lovely shade of pink. "I'm sorry to have surprised you then. I'm twelve years older than Grimsby so it's a little mortifying to tell people."

Charlotte's head snapped around so fast had she been a normal human she would have instantly dislocated her spine. "You're WHAT?" She dropped the shoe she'd been examining and rushed over to Irene, eying the woman up and down. "You don't look _nearly_ that old! What kind of skin treatment are you using?"

The older woman – now revealed to be even older than she appeared – preened happily at the indirect compliment. "Thank you, but it's a secret!"

Charlotte batted her lashes dramatically, playing up her pretty face. It was a near irrefutable fact of life that pretty people were drawn to other pretty people, especially when that beautiful person looked like them and both existed within the confines of Victorian era England social mores, where money and good looks held much sway.

Besides as much as Charlotte didn't actually _need_ anti-aging treatments, establishing rapport with other people always meant that they were more inclined to help you later on.

She tapped her pink bottom lip with a gloved finger. "A secret?" She echoed. "That sounds mysterious! You won't even give me a hint?"

True to expectations, Irene giggled and ushered her closer. Charlotte huddled up to her like they were two schoolgirls trading secrets. "Well," she stretched out the word.

Charlotte listened as she divulged the secret to her youthful appearance, gasping and making interested noises when appropriate even though the information was far more benign and banal than she thought it would be. Honestly it didn't even involve bathing in the blood of younger girls.

"I brought along a bottle of it with me since I drink it every morning and evening," Irene confessed at the end. "It does wonders for the skin! Oh but you don't need it," she smiled kindly at Charlotte, "why you can't be more than twenty-five!"

"You're right! I'm nineteen," Charlotte lied chirpily and then she turned around and burst out laughing. "Ran-Mao what _are_ you doing?"

Irene screeched, running over to the other girl who had a pair of clean white bloomers on her head. "No, stop it! You can't wear that on your head!"

Charlotte cackled at the sight, glancing at Mey-Rin to see if she was watching. The redhead was staring with dumbfounded eyes at something in her hands and trembling minutely. The object she was holding didn't look particularly shocking; it was just a small stopped bottle filled halfway with a dark red liquid.

Apparently this new fear was enough for the redhead to overcome her previous dread of the blonde; she didn't even flinch when Charlotte glided over to her in that disconcerting way she did. "Ms. Charlotte, I found this in Ms. Irene's bag! Do you think it's…!" Mey-Rin glanced at Irene nervously and then hunched closer to Charlotte. "Do you think it's, you know…"

Tamping down the urge to laugh in the face of the other woman's fear, Charlotte studied the bottle and its contents. This was probably the anti-aging tonic Irene had told her about, distilled and mixed with other ingredients until it looked very much like watery blood. Charlotte opened her mouth to tell her exactly what it was, and then the thought of Mey-Rin and the other servants panicking because they thought they had a vampire in their midst proved to be too funny to pass up.

"Yes," she said with a completely straight face. "It is definitely blood. It must be! She looks so young! The only possible explanation for it is that she's a vampire."

"You really think so?" Mey-Rin's eyes bulged behind her glasses. Then she noticed what was going on behind them and squeaked. "Ah, Miss. Ran-Mao please don't stretch Ms. Irene's clothes like that!" She put the bottle back into the suitcase she'd fished it from and ran to help.

Charlotte snickered softly, watching the scene wondering how the boys were getting on. "I think we've gone through all of Ms. Irene's things," she walked over to Ran-Mao and plucked the underwear off her head, replacing it with one of Irene's hats instead which at least made the two women less mortified. "Let's check Ran-Mao's things next, and then mine and Mey-Rin's."

* * *

oOo

* * *

By the end of the search the guests were no closer to discovering an answer and they all returned to the main room a little more demoralized than before.

"In the end we didn't find anything useful. The key wasn't there after all," Arthur slumped in his seat, staring pensively at the table.

"Sebastian must have hidden the key somewhere else," Ciel said.

"Or the culprit threw it out the window," Lau suggested. "It's so small, you'd never find it in this storm. It might have been washed away or buried under the mud for all we know."

Even if we found it it's not as though it would tell us who the killer was, Charlotte thought but didn't say because if everyone was going to go chasing after red herrings it wasn't going to be any of her business. Especially if they planned to do it in this rain like the servants were.

Bard turned to scowl at her, an unlit cigarette between his teeth. "Are you coming or what?"

Charlotte arched an eyebrow at them and pointedly fluffed her soft, well-combed and styled hair. "What, in this rain? You must be mad," she replied loftily. The angry, almost contemptuous glare he aimed her way was brushed off like it was a dead leaf that had landed on her shoulder and

Ciel opened his mouth like he wanted to call them back. Then he huffed and leaned back in his chair, his fingers linked together to form a perch for his chin. He glanced at the blonde girl and scowled. God she was annoying, he thought although he was beginning to realise that most of her irksome qualities came from the fact that she was very similar to him.

It was in the way those blue eyes tracked every person's movement, running over them like they were characters in a mildly interesting book or play and she an outside observer utterly unbound and unbeholden to their laws. Charlotte stood by, cataloguing personalities and personal quirks with a smile on her face and Ciel was almost certain that if she chose to she could become a very difficult foe or at least an annoyingly persistent hindrance.

Until then he was stuck with her. He was definitely going to mend that loophole in Sebastian's contract. "You're not going to help them?" He asked aloud.

Charlotte stopped checking her locks for dry strands. "It would ruin my hair," she chirped.

"Your hair is the least important of our problems," Woodley grunted. "Honestly this is a waste of time."

"I agree," Grimsby conceded, albeit very reluctantly. He got to his feet and started to leave the room before Woodley snarled at him and asked where he thought he was going. "I was just going to grab some things for work. I do have a deadline for my script, and we _are_ stuck for the time being."

Arthur straightened up in his seat. "Please wait a minute. We don't know the killer's identity yet so until we have more information and to avoid more casualties it might be safer if we all moved as a group."

Lau took a puff of his pipe which no one had noticed him light. He exhaled a puff of fragrantly spicy smoke and smirked. "True. If the killer is one of us, moving as a group would certainly be best."

"What do you mean by that?" Charles frowned at the Chinese man who only smiled cryptically. "If they're not amongst us then where would they be?"

Irene gasped. "Do you mean…they could be hiding outside?"

"Even if they were, they couldn't enter a locked room or wander about in a storm without leaving some sign of their presence," Ciel pointed out.

"But what if there was a fourteenth person," Lau's smirk widened, smoke curling from his nose and lips like the breaths of a dragon, "who could make the impossible possible?"

Woodley scoffed. "Ridiculous," he barked though he didn't sound totally sure. "Someone like that could never exist!"

"'Never'?" Lau repeated, amused. "In this world there's never such a thing as 'never'. If there was a mysterious fourteenth member hiding in this manor, creeping through the grounds and waiting patiently to pick us off one by one…" he chuckled darkly, "why they might already be at our door…"

Irene looked like she was about to burst into tears or faint, again. Woodley looked shaken but he still scowled and folded his arms across his chest, diamonds glinting in the light. "And I'm telling you, such an outlandish theory could never be real!"

And that was the moment the servants threw the door open, dragging a bound and cuffed, black-clad lump between them. "Young master, we've captured someone suspicious! Come on, get in here!"

This new person was a man; tall and slim. Elderly, with sharp wine-red eyes, a square jaw and thin lips turned down in what looked like a natural frown. His hair was the colour of rich black ink, and it had been slicked back off his face with enough pomade and product to make it appear shell-like and shiny.

Whoever he was, he didn't look nervous or angry about being tied up by a bunch of unfamiliar people, and simply eyed everyone with mild interest.

Charlotte wanted to laugh so hard that she choked on her giggles and had to turn to face the window to swallow her snorts.

"Wha-? _He was real?!_ " Grey yelled and Charlotte almost lost it at the incredulous tone of his voice. "Where on earth was he hiding?!"

Lau pulled the pipe from between his lips and smiled. "I didn't think that the 14th guest would show up this soon. Even I am a little surprised," he rose to his feet and walked over to the man. The whole room took a breath as he placed a hand on the newcomer's broad shoulder, and then his mysterious and knowing expression disappeared like smoke and he grinned a clueless grin. "So, who're you again?"

Ciel resisted the urge to slap his forehead. The man smiled back, a slow and knowing curve of the lips that made you feel like he was in on some cosmic joke and you weren't invited to know. "My name?"

To everyone's surprise other than Charlotte who had just managed to get herself under control, Ciel got up and nodded cordially to the man. "It's been a while, Reverend Jeremy."

Lau cocked his head and looked curiously at Ciel. "Earl, is this old guy a friend of yours?"

"Old?" The man muttered under his breath, affronted.

"Y-Yeah," Ciel replied, stumbling over his surprise before he caught himself and made a brief introduction. "This man is Father Jeremy Rathbone. He's a popular advisor to the local church and somewhat of a famous person in certain circles."

"What the hell? Like I'd trust a suspicious-looking guy like him!" Woodley accused not without good reason which was a first. "Like we said before, the only one who could have committed the murders is the 14th person without an alibi! No matter how you look at it, it has to be this guy!"

Jeremy's turned his sharp smile on Woodley. "Actually, your reasoning is utter nonsense, Mr. Woodley."

The man started and took a step backwards, unnerved by the expression on his face. "How did you know my name?!"

"Looking at your rings, it's quite obvious," Jeremy replied easily. He leaned closer and Woodley leaned back instinctively. "Furthermore the only place you'd be able to mine a large diamond like that would be South Africa. In addition to that the only way you'd be able to get the special round, brilliant cut this diamond has is with the latest polishing machinery developed by the Woodley Company. Considering the calibre of guests invited to the Earl's home, it's very likely that you are Mr. Woodley. Am I wrong?"

Woodley scowled and retreated, muttering curses under his breath.

Arthur stepped forward. "How did you get here? More than that, how long have you been here? And for what reason did you even come?"

"Sheesh, nothing but questions," Jeremy scoffed. He turned to Bard. "Would you mind opening my bag?"

Bard unclipped the portmanteau briefcase and opened it to reveal the snowy owl Charlotte had released the night before. It was lying on its back with its eyes shut.

"I-Is it dead?" Mey-Rin feared.

"No," Jeremy replied dismissively. "But it was resisting so I gave it a mild sedative. It should wake up in a few minutes. There is a letter attached to its claw. Please look at it."

Ciel unrolled the tiny piece of paper that sure enough had been inside the letter canister tied to the owl's left leg. "What does it say?" Lau asked.

The Earl's eyes scanned the paper briefly, and twitched minutely as if he wanted to scowl. "It seems that he foresaw his death and sent a letter to Jeremy while he could," he crushed the paper and shoved it into his pocket.

"But you can't prove that he isn't the killer with just a piece of paper!" Grimsby argued. "If he came from outside he could very well have committed last night's murders!"

"Actually," Jeremy interjected. "I have a simple solution to your lack of confidence. If one of you would be so kind as to check my coat pocket…"

Finny was the closest to him and he stuck a hand into Rathbone's coat pocket. From the damp and lined inside he produced a small, wrinkled bit of paper.

"It's a…ticket?" The young boy frowned at the printed words, smeared a little by the rain. "It's a ticket for a play that happened yesterday. It's for the evening show of March 12th. The place and program are um...the la...the la-"

" _The_ _Lady of the Lake_ at the Lyceum theatre," Jeremy supplied smugly.

"Yes, I recall that there was a performance of _The Lady of the Lake_ last night," Irene confirmed. "There's another performance tonight as well."

Jeremy nodded. "Indeed, I went to the Lyceum theatre in London last night to watch the play which ended after 10 p.m. Even if I took a hansom cab and threw the driver a sovereign, it would still take over two hours to get here. Of course there _are_ countless other ways of getting here, but there is only one truth."

"Essentially you are claiming that you could not have been involved in the killings because you were in London last night, am I right?" Arthur said. "That is the truth?"

The reverend nodded. "As expected of a master novelist," he commented. "Thank you for speeding up the conversation."

"How did you-?"

"You can find out a lot about people's jobs and the like from examining their looks and habits you know," Jeremy grinned, and then he straightened up and eyed the ropes binding him with disdain. "Well, now that your doubts have been assuaged, would you mind getting these ropes off me? It seems that the air around this mansion is heavy with the smell of a crime that will rid me of my boredom."


	17. IX Elementary My Dear

**Elementary My Dear**

* * *

~O~

 _In a closed society where everybody's guilty, the only crime is getting caught. In a world of thieves, the only final sin is stupidity._

 _-Hunter S. Thompson-_

~O~

* * *

There was much shifting and murmuring after that Mr. Rathbone was untied and a seat was found for him. No one wanted to be next to him but all the guests regarded him with varying levels of suspicion; even Arthur couldn't help eying the other man while explained the events that had occurred up until Mr. Rathbone's surprise appearance. He couldn't help feeling that there was more to the svelte and suave character that sat perched on the armchair.

Once he was done speaking, Mr. Rathbone nodded with his fingers steepled underneath his sharp chin. "I see," he said. "That is very interesting. Could I first see the bodies? They will eloquently tell me nothing but the truth."

Arthur nodded. "Then let us go to the basement," he began to rise to his feet but was stopped by Mr. Rathbone's sharp voice.

"Stop!" He lifted a finger. "I would like all of the bodies to be moved to separate rooms."

The eyes watching him were confused. "But why?" Arthur asked.

Mr. Rathbone looked at him like a schoolteacher whose student had just asked a disappointing question. "The scent of the bodies might be a clue. If all three bodies are in the same space the scents might interfere with each other. Not to mention that the wine cellar will smell strongly of wine…" he turned to the earl, "on that note, will you lend me three rooms, earl?"

Ciel stared at him silently with his brows furrowed. Then he exhaled softly and said, "that would be fine I suppose." He ordered the four servants to attend to the corpses and rooms and then gave Mr. Rathbone permission to go and change out of his wet clothes.

Charlotte hummed softly to herself as she and the other servants made their way down to the wine cellar. She had never taken this route to the room. It was nothing more than a damp, winding staircase of slippery stone that ended in an equally damp corridor. The lantern in Bard's hand swung from side to side as the man grumbled through the unlit cigarette clenched between his teeth.

"Who does that man think he is? Showing up out of nowhere and acting all important – even though he's a priest he acts more like a policeman! Honestly, what a strange man…"

Finny made a soft sound of dissent and Bard and Mey-Rin turned to look at him. "Yes but…I get the feeling that he'll be able to do something about all of this. I don't really know why, but I feel like we can trust him."

Neither of them said anything for a while until they reached the cellar door. Then Bard huffed and pushed the heavy wood door open. "You'll get hurt if you trust too many people," he said.

"That's right," Mey-Rin agreed and followed him into the room. Finny looked a bit downtrodden and even Charlotte with her nonexistent heart and general disdain for human emotions, couldn't help saying something a little kind.

"It's alright too trust people. If you don't trust anyone, no one can help you," she said quietly and without looking at him, then she glided into the room and walked over to the stiff bodies that had just been uncovered. "Hey, all this wine must be good for something! They look pretty good for corpses!" The three of them stared at her, utterly aghast, and she blinked back. "What? That's a good thing right?"

Bard pinched the bridge of his nose with one hand and then gestured to Phelps with the other. "Just…grab his ankles, alright?"

"Aye, aye Captain Sir!" She chirped and helped Mey-Rin carry the body up the stairs and into one of the unused rooms. Charlotte poked the face that had gone cold and stiff and was only showing minor signs of discolouration with equal parts morbid fascination and professional curiosity. She noticed that his one of his eyelids was loose and his mouth was full of saliva.

"What are you doing?" Mey-Rin asked. She didn't know Phelps so his death didn't exactly mean too much to her.

Charlotte lifted the droopy flap of skin from his left eye and let it flop back. "I worked in a mortuary. I know some things about dead people. Huh, well then," she cocked her head and rose gracefully to her feet just as the door opened and Rathbone walked in. He was followed by Ciel, Arthur, and Earl Grey.

"I'll take it from here," the old man smiled. Bard, Finny and Mey-Rin all filtered out of the room but Charlotte stayed put. When the three men stared pointedly at her, she only smiled placidly and inclined her head towards the corpse on the floor. Earl Grey turned to Ciel and asked, "is your maid always so insubordinate?"

"More so than you know," the child replied darkly. Rathbone chuckled and walked over to examine the body.

"He was the only one killed by a different method than the other two," Arthur said as Rathbone assessed Phelps. "I thought, from the wounds on his neck, that someone may have injected poison while he was asleep. At the time of the murder, the only entrances and exits were locked."

Rathbone hummed thoughtfully, running his fingers over the discoloured skin on Phelps's neck where the two punctures were. "I see," he murmured.

Then Charlotte spoke. "If it was poison then it was from a snake. A black mamba to be specific. They utilise a blend of neurotoxins and cardiotoxins to take down prey."

All eyes in the room went to her, even Rathbone's although he looked a little amused. "How do you know that?" Earl Grey asked, his eyes narrowed.

Ciel huffed. "Oddly enough, Charlotte used to work with a snake charmer in a circus."

"The circus, huh?" Grey folded his arms across his chest and eyed the woman up and down with both disdain and a little desire. "That explains her terrible manners."

She ignored his gaze and lifted her chin, flashing her startlingly blue eyes at them. "His eyelid droops, ptosis. Not to mention the excessive saliva at the scene of the crime and in his mouth."

"How talented. You almost don't need me at all Earl," Rathbone pushed himself to his feet and smirked at Charlotte. "Would you mind showing me which room he died in?"

She rolled her eyes but decided to humour him and bobbed a curtsey. The group made their way up the stairs to Ciel's bedroom. Charlotte skipped ahead of the group, still humming under her breath. Earl Grey stared at her back. "So…a circus huh?"

"Yes!" She interrupted her singing to chirp. "That's actually where I first met the Earl. When we…disbanded, I needed a new job so he offered me one." More like she'd forced him to give her one but that was just pedantic.

"I didn't know the Earl went to a lot of circuses," Grey said slyly, glancing at the earl's stiffening back. "In fact, the only circus I know about is-"

"Oh look!" Charlotte piped up. "Mr. Rathbone's fallen behind!"

"What?" Grey looked behind him and saw that the staircase was empty, no old man in sight. "Dammit, this is why I hate old people."

Ciel leaned over the banister. "Jeremy?" He called down.

A moment later they heard footsteps and then the man appeared mopping sweat off his forehead with a handkerchief. "I'm here, I'm here! So sorry."

"You had a handkerchief all this time," Arthur muttered woefully. He had been quiet the whole time just listening. This mansion was full of fascinating things and the pale-haired maid was definitely one of them.

They made their way to the main bedroom where the door was still slashed to pieces. Rathbone eyed the broken hinges and the wood littering the floor. He pressed his lips together into a thin line but didn't ask what had happened. Instead he examined the damp spot on the floor by the door where Phelps had drooled before making his way over to the bed.

He went over the pillows and bedding with a polished magnifying glass. "It seems," he said after a long moment of silence, "that there are several killers in this crime."

Stunned silence greeted his announcement. "So there were multiple killers after all," Ciel muttered.

Rathbone nodded solemnly. "Indeed. It should be easy enough to apprehend one of them but it may be difficult to catch Phelps's killer. Moreover, in order to avoid any further victims we should catch this criminal soon. At any rate, no human can leave in this storm."

The strange emphasis on the word _human_ gave Arthur pause. "What do you mean?" He asked.

"In order to catch Phelps's killer there are two things we need." Rathbone held up one finger, "one is to wait for nightfall, and the other is your cooperation."

Charlotte arched an eyebrow at him. "Mine?"

Rathbone smirked at her. "Yes maid, yours. I will explain everything later tonight but first there is one more body, is there not?"

Oh Charlotte was going to enjoy this. She wanted to see how Sebastian planned on being in two places at the same time. The group entered the room where Sebastian was being kept. There was indeed a body there and under the sheets it could have been Sebastian if you didn't know that the butler was taller and wider in the shoulders in the corpse.

Rathbone reached for the cover and, at the same time, Ciel pretended to become sick. He stumbled into Arthur's arms, trembling with a hand over his mouth. "I can't…"

"What's wrong? Are you feeling ill?" Arthur placed a kind hand on his head. Charlotte couldn't help thinking that his kindness was unwarranted but at the same time Arthur was the sort of person who cared regardless of whether the other person deserved it or not.

"I'm sorry," Ciel said in a broken voice that even Grey was a little convinced. "It's just…seeing Sebastian's corpse so many times…"

"Maybe you should take a break outside," Arthur fussed. "Maybe your maid could prepare something warm for you."

Charlotte did not tell them that she had never made warm anything for anyone in her life because she didn't need to eat and neither did her Papa so food was a luxury she let other people prepare for her. "It seems the butler was killed very simply," Rathbone said, pulling the covers back over the body and drawing their attention.

Grey looked annoyed. "You're done already?" He snipped.

"Yes, yes, I've seen enough," Rathbone replied mildly.

"Fine," he sniffed and waltzed out of the room. The others followed behind him and they trailed past a cuckoo-clock in the hallway. "It's almost dinnertime and I'm hungry. What are we eating?"

Ciel determinedly kept his face devoid of the scowl he wanted to express. "Who knows? Shall I ask the servants?"

"Nah, it's fine. I'll just be looking forward to it," he waved at them over his shoulder and began walking towards the stairs. "I'm heading back."

"I'll escort you," Charlotte said, smiling sweetly when he scowled at her. "This way, my lord."

The two of them walked in silence that was only interrupted by Charlotte's quiet humming. Earl Grey turned to her after a moment. "So which circus did you say you came from?" He asked.

"I didn't say," she replied cleverly.

"You don't sound very English," he prodded, commenting on the slight French accent that lent a pleasant lilt to her voice.

"I'm not," she said.

"You know what's going on, don't you?" He stopped on the stairs and she stopped a stair above him. She blinked up at him, tilting her head both left and right. Her neck moved like a well-oiled hinge."You know what's happening."

"I assure you, my lord, I am as clueless as you are," she said, which said quite a lot. She smirked and her eyes glinted coldly like sunlight on a glacier. "Shall we continue on Earl Grey? We do not want to be found suspicious."

Charlotte loved vents. They were dry, cosy, and unless you minded the occasional rat or spider then they were a fun way of getting around. Charlotte didn't mind the little creatures even when they scampered over her feet and nibbled at her fingers. She did draw the line at finding them in her hair however.

The Phantomhive manor had an excellent ventilation system, small enough to be snug but large enough that Charlotte could crawl through them quite easily without having to disconnect her arms. If she had to live here, at least there was always that silver lining. That and the beds.

Speaking of beds, Ciel's bed was so unnecessarily soft? Charlotte recalled nights in her youth spent lying on stiff beds because her parents thought it would help her stand up straight like a true lady. The woman made a mental note to get herself a nice bed like this at some point.

Why was she in Ciel's bed you ask? Well there were two reasons that were very connected.

Reason number one: Father Jeremy's appearance, though hilarious and amusingly overdone, was a bit annoying. To her his introduction heralded the beginning of the end and while Charlotte was beginning to lose interest in the story, she had a feeling that the end would be wrapped up so perfectly it would leave the viewer feeling disappointed by the lack of loose strings.

It did occur to her that she might have been more interested in the whole plot if she hadn't known about Sebastian being a demon. Clearly she had been privy to a huge spoiler.

Reason number two: so when Father Jeremy had requested that someone dress up in the earl's clothes and get under his covers, Charlotte had allowed herself to be the obvious choice. She was only a few inches taller than Ciel after all, and unlike Mey-Rin and Ran-Mao she was almost entirely flat-chested.

She caught Father Jeremy's annoyed frown and returned it with a demure smile and both were completely aware that they were on similar pages.

Charlotte yawned even though she wasn't tired, and stared up at the textured darkness above her. She had been lying there for only a few minutes, ignoring the occasional whisper and hush from the other occupants of the room.

Then she heard it; the almost silent sounds of scales sliding on metal followed by the deliberate rustle of cloth. Finally she felt a weight land on the pillow, right beside her head. The thing hissed and something brushed against her cheek.

" _Out of the way!_ "

Charlotte kicked the duvet off the bed just as Rathbone blocked Grey's sword with the thin end of a riding crop. "Mr. Grey, I would ask that you show some modicum of calm before you kill what may very well be a valuable witness to the case," he rested the crop on his shoulder and turned to Charlotte with a wry smirk. "Well Ms. Blanche, may we see them?"

"'See them?'" Grey muttered perplexedly, and then screeched as a large black head attached to a thick neck lifted itself from around the maid's slender shoulders. " _What the hell is that?_ "

"A black mamba," Rathbone explained cheerfully. "I must say, you do have an excellent handle on him. How are you managing to keep the snake so calm?"

Charlotte giggled and the hairs on Grey's arms prickled. He knew that laugh. "Oh, you know," she said airily with something hard glinting in her eyes, "I worked in a circus not too long ago."

"That's a bit suspicious, isn't it?" Grey snapped, his heart thudding a little too hard for his liking. "How do we know you're not the killer? None of your alibis matter if you had a snake to do all the work!"

The maid blinked at him silently and then she cocked her head. "First of all, the circus I worked for no longer exists any more. Where would I get a snake? Especially one that is native to Africa? I am naught but a poor housemaid," she doubled the irony of this statement by temporarily upping her high-class French accent, "do you think I could ever afford the fees of importing something as expensive as a foreign snake?"

Grey scowled at her, realising that she had a point and an airtight alibi. He huffed and stormed out of the room, muttering unsavoury things under his breath. Charlotte watched him go with a wide smile.

"You play a lot of games, Ms. Blanche," Rathbone observed with his own smile.

"No more than anyone else," she retorted. The snake hissed softly into her ear and she cooed something back before passing Ida B. to Rathbone with a hissed warning for him to _be_ _careful with her or else_. "I suppose we have a murder weapon now, but who do we accuse?"

"You leave that to me," Rathbone neatly tied the snake into a loose knot. "Come, we have a case to end."


	18. X Spiders and Snakes, Oh My!

**Spiders and Snakes, Oh My!**

* * *

~O~

 _If only these walls could talk…the world would know just how hard it is to tell the truth in a story in which everyone's a liar_

 _-Greg Olson, Envy-_

~O~

* * *

Like the most on the nose metaphor written by the most clichéd of authors, the storm ended that very night. The winds soon ceased their howling and by morning the clouds parted like a pair of velvet stage-curtains to reveal a sky painted pastel blue and dabbed with fluffy white clouds. The sun showed its yellow face and shone down upon the earth as if it had never left, as if the past few nights and all the events that had transpired had never occurred at all.

Carriages lined up one after the other on the manor's front grounds. The remaining guests chattered gaily to one another as hurried to leave and escape the mansion, as though they could escape the memories and horrors they had seen with laughter and pretence. Charlotte watched them go with a little smile on her face, Ida B. still coiled sedately around her shoulders. She saw Grey and Phipps load Woodley into the back of one of the carriages, his face a haggard mix of anger and despair like he had spent the whole night pleading his innocence.

Grey looked back at the manor and Charlotte caught his eye. Her smile widened and she focused elsewhere. Arthur stood outside one of the cabs and looked back as well. He was going to be the last one to leave if he kept hovering there, she thought to herself as she studied his expression from a distance. He looked ill at ease, less relieved than the other visitors. He frowned back at the looming building like he had forgotten something but couldn't recall what it was.

Charlotte had met authors, poets, lyricists, and playwrights. Such creative minds always saw more than they needed to, a talent that wasn't always a gift.

Ida B. hissed into her ear and Charlotte nodded with agreement as Mr. Rathbone made his way over to Arthur's cab and knocked on the window. The two conversed for a while, likely exchanging pleasantries and the like, until the priest's last words. Whatever they were they appeared to leave the young man stunned even as the carriage began to roll down the pathway and out of sight.

"I love a good ending to a story," Charlotte sighed aloud as they entered the manor and the door shut behind them. "I suppose the actors can take off their costumes now, can't they?"

Rathbone cocked his head at her with a wide smile. "How lucky for me that you didn't spoil the surprise."

"I thought it would ruin the plot if I revealed the truth," Charlotte spun her wrist dramatically. "And what sort of story would that be?"

"It may get more interesting yet," Sebastian said mysteriously. Charlotte arched an eyebrow at him and then blinked when she heard footsteps outside the door. A moment later it flew open, revealing the panting, bent over form of Arthur Doyle. Sebastian – still pretending to be Rathbone – stared down at the younger man. "Why are you so flustered?" He asked. "Did you forget something?"

Arthur shook his head, struggling to catch his breath. "I came back to confirm the truth Pastor Jeremy. No," he shook his head and straightened up to stare at the tall, black-clad man. "Butler. You're the butler, Sebastian."

No one said anything for a moment, and then he began to chuckle. "Excellent work, Mr. Wordsmith," Sebastian raised his hand to his face and began to rip the flesh-coloured mask away in a grotesque display. "It seems that we rudely underestimated your skills."

"Don't mind him. I thought you were wonderful," Charlotte told him earnestly. "You're definitely my favourite character."

"Charlotte stop treating people like they're pieces in a play," Ciel called out.

"Well at least I have the decency to be upfront about it," she called back glibly. "I don't lie about my affections. Do I, Ida?" The snake hissed softly and stared in Ciel's direction with unblinking golden eyes.

Arthur let out a choked noise, bringing their attention back to the man who was now shaking. His eyes were wide and he looked like he wanted to run screaming. Something stopped him from doing that though; call it fear, call it that insufferable curiosity that plagued all creative minds, but he couldn't bring himself to leave before he had an explanation.

"I...I can't believe it..." he murmured. "How could something so unreal be happening...?"

"Oh?" Sebastian tilted his head and stared down at Arthur. "Didn't you come back because you were certain of this? You realise that had you just kept going you would have returned to your peaceful _normal_ reality. So why did you come running back?" He eyed the man from top to bottom. "Trembling even."

As though Sebastian's derision had knocked something loose inside him, Arthur suddenly appeared to steel himself. He stood a little straighter and stared back at the demon wearing the face of a man. "B-Because if my nervousness wasn't just an uncomfortable feeling, if my instincts happened to be correct, then I'd have had to go after the Yard's carriage immediately!"

"He's so noble!" Charlotte pretended to swoon before catching herself with a clever twist of her ankles.

"Your sense of justice is truly remarkable," Ciel chuckled, leaning against the staircase banister. "Just like the knights in the old stories that you admire so much. Didn't you think that, if you knew the truth, I might not let you leave?"

Arthur stiffened and took a fearful step backwards. Gone was the sweet child who stared up at you with wide, guileless blue eyes, and he wondered how much of that innocence had truly been a mask. "You…you can't be serious…"

Ciel blinked down at him, his smile dimming to something a lot milder and a little less terrifying. "I was only joking, Mr. Wordsmith. It's just as you said; Woodley wasn't the criminal. Not here at least." He turned on his heel and began walking upstairs. After a moment of confused hesitation, Arthur tripped over his feet to follow behind.

"What do you mean?"

"Just as I said," Ciel replied flippantly, "but he _does_ deserve to be in that carriage. Let's not stand around and talk though. We might as well have some elevenses prepared. Sebastian."

"Yes, my lord." Arthur startled and backed away from the butler. He had forgotten that the man was standing beside him, he had been so quiet. Sebastian bowed at the waist, a smirk dancing about his lips, "Come, I will direct you to the greenhouse. There's no need to be scared; it's not like we're going to eat you."

"That is possibly the least comforting thing you could have said," Charlotte said with a sighed as she leapt up the stairs with far more flair than was at all necessary. Arthur realised that was probably just her personality. Not all of her movements were necessary, they just were, and the longer he stared at her the more he realised that not all of her movements were humanly possible.

Human…

The greenhouse was a large structure filled with a plethora of flora. The scents of English roses and honeysuckle might have been overwhelming had Sebastian not opened a few of the windows. Arthur could hear the soft buzz of honeybees buzzing amongst the petals and the quiet rustle of lush green leaves. On another day on some other occasion, this might have been relaxing, but he could hardly relax when the person serving him cakes and biscuits was a dead man walking and a woman with a black mamba around her neck.

Human…

"We haven't poisoned it," Ciel said with an amused smirk as he lowered his teacup. "Please, help yourself." Arthur eyed the bite-sized snacks dubiously, steering clear of one that looked like it had been made with strawberry jam, and choosing one topped with a dollop of whipped cream. "So…how did you know he was alive, Mr. Wordsmith?"

"Actually, I had no set conviction," Arthur revealed, "I just had this vague sense of unease. I'm not sure how to properly explain it, but if I had to I'd say that he was just…too perfect."

No one responded for a second, and then Charlotte sputtered with laughter so hard that she nearly choked on her petit-four. Ciel stared at her, unimpressed. "Of course," he drawled, "and what do you mean by that?"

"It would have been natural to feel uncomfortable about the butler's death, and then feel suspicious about Rathbone's sudden appearance, but both were too flawless; too perfect that the whole thing became uncanny instead."

"Clearly someone's been slacking on their detective skills," Charlotte snickered behind another petit-four. "So much for being _one hell of butler_. It seems someone got a little too carried away."

"Quite," Sebastian's expression remained stoic but an eyebrow twitched in response to Charlotte's taunts. "What tipped you off, Mr. Wordsmith."

"There was no way you could have prepared everything so completely before dying. The food, the owl, even your words to me," he waved his free hand, getting carried away by his thoughts as they began to marshal themselves into a functional narrative. "Then the pastor appeared. He was suspicious no matter how you looked at it, but his alibi was so airtight that there was no logical reason to suspect him. Then the last words he said to me in the carriage…that was when I realised the true reason for my discomfort; the possibility of something unreal."

Ciel cocked his head curiously. "Something unreal?"

"The possibility that the butler had not died," Arthur slumped back into his chair and stared down at the tablecloth. "When that thought occurred to me, I couldn't sit still. I had to come back."

Applause rang out through the garden and all three of them looked at Charlotte. "What?" She shrugged. "I love when dramatic mysteries are revealed. No wonder my lord likes your stories so much."

"Charlotte!" Ciel barked. She shrugged again but kept quiet. "Tell me; how exactly did you figure it out?"

So he did, starting from the beginning when Sebastian had been oh-so-quiet when Ciel was being accused of Siemens's murder, and at every step Sebastian explained the reason behind all of his actions. The more they talked, the more the mystery began to take form in Arthur's mind as blanks were filled.

Finally he covered his face and stared unseeingly at his lap. "I can't believe it. So in the end, the killer was-"

"Lord Grey, one of the Queen's bodyguards," Sebastian finished, serenely pouring more tea.

"You English and your royalty," Charlotte huffed and rolled her eyes. "So much patriotism for a monarch who doesn't do much besides give orders and appear on your stamps and coins," she ate another biscuit, oblivious to the shocked glares behind her. "So, Grey murdered Siemens at the Queen's behest?"

Ciel pursed his lips and then shook his head. "It seems his bank made some worryingly large investments into the development of domestic ships which threatened England's navy. Siemens was a key figure in the German heavy industry, so the Queen planned for him to be crushed and Germany's military development halted."

"And all of that would happen because of his death?" Arthur sounded disbelieving.

Ciel shrugged. "Well, Lord Siemens was only one banker, but it is likely that his death will have some unforeseen consequences down the line. A Butterfly Effect, if you will." He smiled a little to himself and took another sip of his tea. Arthur hadn't seen him eat any of the petit-fours yet

"But why did Earl Grey want to place the blame on you?" Arthur asked.

Charlotte froze with a biscuit just an inch from her lips, and then she rotated her head without moving her body until she was staring at the back of the boy's head with a large smile on her face. "Yes Ciel," she said sweetly and Ida hissed softly as well, "why _did_ he want to put the blame on you?"

He grimaced and, for a moment, Arthur saw something tragic and haunted pass behind his visible eye. Then he blinked and it was gone. "I'm afraid one of my tasks got out of hand," he replied calmly. Behind him Charlotte looked away and the smile disappeared from her mouth but not her eyes. "I had expected some sort of punishment, but to think that Her Majesty would try to pin a murder on me."

"You English and your humour."

The dress the maid wore had a high starched collar but she also wore a lace choker around her throat as well. Arthur tore his eyes away from Charlotte's neck. "But why the innocent Mr. Woodley?" He asked.

Ciel chuckled and finally picked up a pastry. "Didn't I tell you? He _deserved_ to be in that horse carriage, I just hastened his arrest. Up front Mr. Woodley runs a prosperous diamond polishing business, but behind the scenes however, he is a weapons dealer who sells illegal weapons to areas of violent conflict. I wasn't lying when I said the Rose Company's president had been murdered. It only took a little digging to confirm that he was the killer."

 _Digging,_ Arthur thought dizzily. He was so out of his depth, a player in a playing field he had no idea how to navigate, and the game master was a shadowy queen and twelve-year-old boy with the devil in his smile.

Ciel leaned forward, his chin propped on his hands. "Since I was going to get rid of him anyway, he was the perfect person to use as a scapegoat, don't you think?"

"It was an elegant solution; it would clear the Queen's worries and ensure that the young master was kept out of harm's way," he stated. "It's two birds with one stone."

"Just exactly who are you?!" Arthur gasped.

"You may refer to me as The Queen's Watchdog," Ciel said with a wry smirk. "And you can refer to her as a nuisance," he gestured to Charlotte who didn't deny it and just grinned and waved. "What happened this time was no more than a game where the Queen reconfirmed whether I still had the talent to keep my position."

Arthur was trembling violently now, shaking hard in his seat. He knew, or at the very least he suspected. This had been a mistake, and now he had stumbled headfirst into something he had no business knowing. "N-No way," his voice shook, as though he was rushing to find the end yet was terrified of what he might find when he got there. "If what you've told me up 'til now is true, then he…that butler is…"

"' _There is nothing more deceptive than an obvious fact_ '" Ciel quoted as the room began to grow dark, as though someone was slowly covering up the sun. "Wasn't that it, Mr. Wordsmith? It has been right in front of you all along, after all."

"The truth," the butler was suddenly right beside him. His yes glowed red like the fires of hell, like burning iron, and when he smiled his canines were sharp and curved, like the fangs of a monster. " _Is that I am not human._ "

The author screamed and fell backwards. The darkness was nearly complete, and ink-black feathers fell to the ground around him as he scrambled away from the approaching entity that began to look less and less human the closer it got.

" _Now that I do know it, I shall do my best to forget it. Was that right, Mr. Wordsmith?_ " Sebastian quoted as he stalked forward, chasing down the terrified man. Adrenaline gave Arthur the strength to spring for the door, only to meet the demon in front of him again. " _One wonders what would happen to you if you were to reveal this matter…_ "

" _I'll never tell!_ " He begged. " _I'll never tell, I swear!_ "

" _Be sure you don't. After all, we're always watching…_ "

Charlotte listened to the rapid footfalls as the man ran screaming from the house of horrors. Once silence reigned again, she sighed and patted Ida gently. "I didn't see the point of that."

"Consider it a burst of inspiration," Sebastian smirked as he began tidying up the table. "He is a writer; if he goes through a strange experience he will most likely want to document it. You liked his stories, didn't you young master?"

"Mm, and what makes you think he will publish any of those stories?" Charlotte arched a slender eyebrow. "After all, what is he supposed to think after you essentially threatened him into keeping silent about his experiences? Honestly…" she turned away and then frowned when Ida uncurled herself from around her neck and slipped down her body and slithered underneath the table. "Ida? _Qu'est-ce que c'est mon chou_? Where are you going?"

"Ah, she has sniffed out her brethren," Sebastian ducked down after the mamba and dragged out a giant wooden crate that was large enough to hold a person. "I suppose I should explain Phelps's murder."

Ciel gaped at the crate and then scowled at Sebastian. "I assume you had a reason for not mentioning it earlier? Are you telling me that the killer is in there?!"

"You put Snake in a crate?!" Charlotte screeched. "Let him out!"

Sebastian tilted his head and glanced at Ciel. The boy nodded. "Open the crate, Sebastian."

"Well, if you're sure…" he knelt down and produced a key from his breast-pocket. The heavy padlock sprung open and the chains fell to the ground. The lid rattled and, when Sebastian lifted it, two snakes leapt straight for Ciel's face.

Sebastian caught them mere inches from his nose, staring at the colourful snakes curiously as Ciel struggled to calm his racing heart. "They seem incredibly resentful towards the young master…"

"What the-" Ciel got to his feet but before he could get a look at the inhabitant of the crate, Charlotte screeched and leapt on top of them.

"SNAKE! Snake, _oh mon Dieu_ , I was so worried about you! I've missed you so much!" She pulled the cloth away from his mouth and fluttered her hands about his face and shoulders. "Are you alright? Gods, what a stupid question! But are you?"

"Muffet? _Says Wilde_ ," Snake stared at her like he couldn't believe she was there.

"It's me! It's me, _mon cherí_ ," she stroked his hair, touching his scaled skin as if to reassure herself that he was actually there. "How did you get here?"

The story turned out to be rather funny, and Charlotte smiled to herself at the thought of Prince Soma unknowingly sending someone to assassinate Ciel. Gosh the man was so kind-hearted. She must remember to thank him for reuniting her with her friend.

For now though. "What are you _doing_ here? _Says Wilde_ ," he looked behind her and snarled at Ciel and Sebastian. "Why are you with _them_?"

The two former circus members turned to Ciel expectantly and the boy exhaled softly. He was going to need a nap after all this brainwork.

 **Charlotte and Snake are BFFs ya'll. There is nothing romantic there, just pure platonic and familial love.**


	19. Intermission! Ingredients Optional

**Intermission Two! Ingredients Optional**

* * *

~O~

 _What are little girls made of?  
What are little girls made of?  
Sugar and spice and everything nice,  
That's what little girls made of._

~O~

* * *

The first piece that arrived was the torso. It was slender, hollow, and moulded from a special blend of smooth bone china and white porcelain. Charlotte was glad it was the first part that arrived because the process of removing her head and reattaching it to the neck was incredibly...unpleasant.

Charlotte lay on the cold stone slab and watched the Undertaker putter about the cramped space, the blood-soaked knife and bone-saw left to soak in a bucket of water and ethanol. She wondered, not for the first time, why she wasn't dead many times over. Her neck hurt, her mind hurt; she very much wanted to _be_ dead. Seeing that these thoughts were of no help, she focused her attention on the other occupant in the room.

The Undertaker was the strangest person she had ever met. He laughed at the oddest things, and always had a large, almost disconcerting smile on his face even when the situation arguably didn't call for it. His expression was always knowing, as though he was in on some cosmic and ongoing joke and it made Charlotte want to run away but also know what he knew. The young lady shuddered internally, recalling the way his expression hadn't changed even while he'd carved through her trachea and spinal cord. His fingernails were absurdly long and not at all conducive to sewing up bodies.

The man also talked. A lot. He held one-sided conversations with her as if she could answer him. Even if she could, Charlotte wasn't sure how to reply to any of his questions or weird quips. Sometimes she wanted to laugh when he did something ridiculous but then her father's stern face would come to mind and she would swallow her feelings like she had done all her life.

All her life...

"That's not a very happy expression~" The Undertaker's face appeared above her own and beside that, the hollow-eyed, grey-skinned visage of a young woman. Charlotte blinked up at the two faces before focusing on where she assumed the man's eyes were. "It's important to smile~" he said, waving the head the way a nanny might wave a cute teddy bear to entice a small child. "You want to die with a smile on your face, don't you~? Not like her," he turned the head towards himself and his lips turned downwards such a dramatic reversal of his usual smile that a laugh was startled out of her before she could stop herself.

The Undertaker turned back to her with something that registered as surprise to her. His smile was a little less wide but it felt slightly more genuine.

"That's better," he chuckled, tossing the head over his shoulder like a cheap prop. It crashed somewhere with a dull _thunk_ and Charlotte wondered how he kept this place open if that was how he treated the dead bodies. She was distracted from that thought when he tapped her nose with one absurdly sharp fingernail, causing her to flinch. "The worst is over, little one. Don't worry, I'll fix you right up~"

* * *

oOo

* * *

"I don't want to be human."

The voice that came from her scarred throat was quiet and raspy, the sort of hissy sibilance that would not sound out of place from a snake. Charlotte touched the strip of bandages that looped around her neck, hiding the worst of the magenta bruises. She ran the fingers of her newly attached arm over the fabric, feeling the uneven texture beneath.

The Undertaker looked up from what he was doing and cocked his head at her. At the moment Charlotte was only head and an upper body. Arms were complicated, what with the numerous joints and screws, so he had only gotten round to attaching one.

The mortician spat out the needles in his mouth and regarded her curiously. "Why not?" He asked her.

Charlotte silently rotated her fingers, testing the limits of the joints. Sometimes she imagined that she could feel the way they bent backwards, the phantom pain of knowing her body wasn't supposed to be able to do that.

"Humans are awful," she said slowly. "And weak," she continued. "We claim to be governed by laws and legalities but half of those make no sense and the other half we ignore when it suits us. We treat differences with suspicion and embrace uniformity as though it will somehow keep us safe from some unseen monster. No matter how much we claim to be free-thinkers, we're all sheep to one degree or another. I don't want to be a sheep."

The Undertaker hummed again, and then the hum became a low chuckle. "How interesting~!" He laughed, making his way over to her. He tapped her nose and this close she could see that he had bright green eyes.

He regarded her with that poison green and sulphur-yellow gaze. "Shall we continue the experiment~?"

* * *

oOo

* * *

"Four arms seems rather excessive," Charlotte commented as she watched Undertaker consult a paper in one hand. From what she could see it was filled with schematics similar to the sort of scientific illustrations she'd seen in medical journals, except blood and organs had been replaced by screws and clockwork cogs. Resting on the coffin behind him were three arms, one of which was actually necessary. Charlotte gestured to her empty arm socket. "You should focus on the arm I actually need."

Undertaker hummed to himself, turning the paper this way and that to read the tiny handwriting. "Still, you should have the option, little one~!"

"Yes but can I have two arms first?" Charlotte huffed and swung a newly attached leg. Her body was taking form; she now had a torso, an abdomen, hips, and two limbs. Her neck still hurt when she talked too much or for too long but the scarring had gone down quite a lot. The skin would never stop looking raw and ruined though but Undertaker had upgraded her from corpse-linen to a bright yellow ribbon that had been left on one of the bodies.

After an extra moment of scanning through the paper Undertaker tossed the manual over his shoulder with a shrug. "Fair enough. Where's my scalpel?"

"Try your sleeve." Charlotte leaned to the side to avoid the flying bone-saw, a knife, six hypodermic needles, a human skull with some viscera trailing off it, and a cookie. "The _other_ sleeve."

"Ohhh, here it is~!" He held up a wickedly sharp scalpel with triumphant glee. "What colour should we paint your nails once we're done~?" He mused as he approached the empty arm socket.

Charlotte hummed thoughtfully. "Black? Or maybe pink..."

"How about the sombre blue of a frostbitten cadaver~?"

"...an interesting suggestion! We'll jot that down! Don't stab me in the neck!"

* * *

oOo

* * *

"So...how long do you think he's been dead?"

"I can't be certain~," Undertaker hummed as he leaned over the body with a thoughtful frown. It was less a body and more several strips of skin connected in the vague shape of a human with a shrunken skull attached at one end. He held up a knife. "Do you want to stab him and see what comes out~?"

"Do I!"

"Um-"

The two morticians looked up at the police officer. He stood in front of them, looking nervous but with an irritating expression of steadfastness that was quite rare to see on London's constabulary and was thus much less irritating than their usual impatience. This one had auburn brown hair, a small moustache, and an even smaller beard.

Charlotte smiled at him and waved. She was still getting used her new body and sometimes forgot that human fingers couldn't rotate 360 degrees. "Yes?" She inquired.

Judging by the uneasy way he regarded her she hadn't quite succeeded. Of course he might have also been confused by the fact that she was wearing one of the Undertaker's robes – cut to fit so she wouldn't trip over the long hem – or by her presence in general. Whatever his reason was, he soldiered on bravely. "It's best to treat the dead with respect don't you think?"

The two morticians stared blankly at him, then they looked at each other, and then back at him. "Listen, Chamberlain-"

" _Abberline_."

"Unimportant," Charlotte held up a single finger that shut him up. "Listen, people die, and then they disappear and go off wherever souls go. This," she lifted one stiff purple arm and let it smack back onto the table with a wet thud, "is just a sack of wet, decomposing meat and rapidly congealing blood! It doesn't really matter anymore! Right? Am I right?" she looked at the Undertaker who was giggling into his sleeve. Charlotte nodded with satisfaction and turned back to the officer with a pleased smile. "I'm right."

Abberline's face was twisted in disgust but he tossed down a handful of coins, enough to pay for a perfunctory autopsy and burial, and stormed out the door muttering under his breath. "Come again soon~!" Charlotte trilled after him and that statement seemed to tip the Undertaker over the edge. He burst into cackles loud enough to shake building. The blonde shook her head with a small smile. "It was _not_ that funny."

"On the contrary, Lottie~" he picked her up under her arms and held her aloft, "I think you have a charming sense of humour~."

"I'd be flattered papa but your sense of humour mostly relies on depression and dead people so I'm not sure how to take that."

"Take it as a compliment, Lottie-dearest~" Undertaker chuckled and set her down on his desk. Charlotte blinked at him, a fully formed being carved from soil and bone and quickened with the remains of a soul that had refused to be severed. The reaper laughed to himself and tapped his new daughter on the nose. "I believe you'll go quite far, my dear."


	20. I Karnstein Hospital

**Karnstein Hospital**

* * *

~O~

 _I saw the pale student of unhallowed arts kneeling beside the thing he had put together. I saw the hideous phantasm of a man stretched out, and then, on the working of some powerful engine, show signs of life and stir with an uneasy, half-vital motion. Frightful must it be, for supremely frightful would be the effect of any human endeavor to mock the stupendous mechanism of the Creator of the world._

 _-Mary Shelley, Frankenstein-_

~O~

* * *

"Isn't it nice that we're now one big, happy family?" Charlotte said between bites of deliciously sweet meringues.

"No," Ciel replied succinctly with a short glare over the top of his morning newspaper. He then lowered the paper when he saw the crumbly bite between her un-gloved fingers, "and stop stealing the desserts! You don't even _need_ to eat!"

Charlotte frowned at him, her mouth covered in meringue powder. "First of all, you should not comment on a woman's eating habits. That's rude. Second of all, tell your butler to guard them better."

Ciel turned to scowl pointedly at Sebastian who smiled and lifted his shoulders in a nonchalant shrug. "She doesn't emit any true readings of life," he said, "I shall increase my diligence and begin paying more attention to the vents, young master. That does make me curious though," the demon turned to stare at her curiously, "how _are_ you eating that?"

Charlotte blinked at him and then looked down at her abdomen as though it was an oddity that she had never noticed before. "Oh my," she replied after a moment, "I have absolutely no idea. Ha, isn't that funny!" She chuckled and finished her treat.

Ciel's brows furrowed in confusion and he put the newspaper down completely, his attention caught and his curiousity piqued. "How could you possibly not know how your body works?" He demanded. "It's part of you. Haven't you asked?"

The walking marionette shrugged and dusted her hands, peering between the numerous joints for stray crumbs. She caught sight of a few sugary fragments and unscrewed her thumb. "Well I never saw the point in asking. _À cheval donné on ne regarde pas les dents_. Papa never seemed to worry about it and he was the one who made me in the first place!"

Ciel doubled over, having suddenly inhaled his tea too fast in astonishment. " _Undertaker made you?!_ " he coughed out. That fragment of information was wholly new and hinted at something utterly appalling.

However before he could ask any questions regarding that, the door of the dining area flew open and a familiarly unwelcome person barged in. "Good morning Earl!" Lau sang as he strode ahead, cheerfully ignoring Mey-Rin's panicked stammering and Ciel's irritated expression. He stopped and frowned at the empty plates and the lone tea set on the table and then made a sound of disappointment. "How depressing. I was aiming to be here by breakfast."

"Lau, why are you here–!"

"Oh," Lau stared at Sebastian with mild surprise as though he had just noticed him, "didn't you die recently?"

" _Pay attention when people are speaking to you!_ "

"And my favourite maid!" Lau grinned at Charlotte who realised that her hands were bare and that if she lifted her hands to wave then her joints would be on display. Instead she grinned back while quickly reaching into her pocket for her gloves. "You know Ran-Mao has been dying to see you!"

"Has she?" Charlotte leaned over to stare at the other girl. Ran-Mao stared back and blinked her large eyes once. "I had no idea."

" _Lau_ ," Ciel snapped in a hard voice. Once he had the man's easily-fleeting attention he leaned back in his seat and folded his arms across his chest. "What could you possibly want at this hour?"

"Well, breakfast for one thing," Lau smiled as Sebastian magicked piping hot plates of crispy bacon, sunny-side-up eggs, fried tomatoes, and buttery croissants in front of them. Ran-Mao silently pushed her croissant over to Charlotte who took it and looked around for the butter. "But I also happened upon some very interesting information."

Ciel arched an eyebrow expectantly after the man didn't continue. "And that information was...?" He prompted impatiently.

Lau took his time chewing and swallowing his food before he inclined his head. "Have you read today's newspaper, Earl?"

The boy frowned and looked down at the paper. "I hadn't gotten round to finishing it. Why?"

"There's a particular article near the middle," Lau rolled up his billowing sleeves and began smearing butter all over the bread. "For such a scandalous title, its placement is quite unusual."

Brows furrowed, the earl flipped through the pages until he reached a page that was just to the left of the centre-page. It was filled with the usual gossip and tall tales but on one side was a surprising declaration.

Ciel scanned through the short article and then turned to stare balefully at both Charlotte and Sebastian. They both stared back blankly. "Young master?" Sebastian tilted his head inquiringly.

With a long sigh of disappointment, Ciel pressed his fingers together and stared at Lau. "Are you telling me," he said in a low voice, "that there is a hospital _'claiming'_ that they can bring the dead back to life? _That's_ your big news?"

"I thought you'd be interested," Lau chirped, exchanging one of his tomatoes for a slice of Ran-Mao's bacon.

Ciel snorted and leaned back in his seat. "It's just gossip and hearsay," he snapped, feeling frazzled and itchy and uncomfortable with the morning's turn of topic and implications. "Every doctor likes to claim that they've discovered some new, magical way to vanquish aging and death. It's just occult rubbish and I have no interest in that." He ignored Charlotte's barely muffled coughs.

"Ah, well," Lau smiled and rolled his sleeves back down, his plate picked clean, "it might not be occult. You know what I do for a living, earl, and I've been receiving some interesting hints pertaining to Karnstein Hospital. They seem to be doing a lot of shopping down at the docks."

Ciel narrowed his eyes. "Drugs?"

"No; people. They come shopping for foreign slaves, and race doesn't seem to matter. Lately however the numbers have increased exponentially. I doubt a hospital could fit so many people even if they were packed like sardines."

"Doesn't that mean that they dispose of them?" Ciel countered. "Not that I care," he tacked on.

Charlotte turned to stare at him silently. She opened her mouth, then shook her head and looked away. The look in her eyes made it clear that she didn't think he was worth speaking to.

Even Lau's normally plastic expression seemed to change just minutely. The Chinese man smiled. "Isn't it wrong for a hospital like that to feature in regular society's news?" He pointed out. "I thought managing that that was your job, earl~."

The younger boy pressed his lips together. "You believe there's a possibility that this so-called revival of the dead is a result of human experimentation? If that is so, then it's an interference of society by an underground power. Sebastian," he ordered, "investigate this theory immediately."

"Yes, my lord," Sebastian bowed.

There was a screech as Charlotte jumped to her feet. "Well _I_ am going out today," the blonde lady declared and strode from the room in a flurry of pink and blue. Then she stuck her head back inside. "And I'm taking Snake with me!"

"Stop making decisions on your own-!" But Charlotte had already shut the door and was skipping down to the kitchen. She had stopped wearing a uniform once the murders had been 'solved' because she felt that the part was getting stale. Being a Phantomhive maid was boring and probably only worked if you really felt some sort of deep connection and loyalty to the kid.

Plus she wasn't being paid so.

Charlotte burst into the kitchen like a pastel whirlwind, terrifying Mey-Rin who had been standing near the door. "Snake, darling! Let's go out today!"

"Cha–Miss Charlotte, you should be more careful!" Finny hastily corrected himself. She fluttered her fingers at him absentmindedly as she made her way over to the silent, fair-haired man standing over an almost empty barrel of potatoes.

He and the snake on his shoulder regarded her curiously. " _Where are we going?_ Says Oscar."

The lady grinned a wide, wide smile. "To visit my father!"

* * *

oOo

* * *

It was difficult to convince the hansom cab driver to allow the presence of a poisonous reptile on board, however the extra shilling Charlotte pressed into his palm did the trick and soon they were outside the mortuary. She and Snake regarded the building. " _This is where he lives?_ Says Oscar."

"Lives, works, eats," Charlotte shrugged, "I have rarely seen him even leave the place. I used to think he would melt in the sunlight like a vampire," she chuckled to herself, recalling the early years when the two of them were getting used to each other. "Anyway, shall we?"

" _You first._ Says Oscar."

"Are you frightened, Snake?" Charlotte got on her tiptoes to peer into his eyes. Normally Snake loathed people barging into his personal space but he was used to Charlotte and, despite her extroverted personality, she did respect his boundaries.

He met her narrowed gaze with a slow, placid blink.

She smiled and leaned away. "I understand; my papa can be a lot to handle. I want him to meet you though; you are my best friend and the closest thing I have to a brother."

Flustered by that frank admission of affection, Snake looked down. " _...you are the closest thing I have to a sister too._ Says Oscar."

"Yay!" She cheered and hefted him into a hug that lifted him a few inches off the ground and ended with Oscar trying to burrow his way into her hair. "Now, let's go in!"

The door swung open with that ever familiar creak of hinges that hadn't been oiled in much too long because the owner didn't care about hinges when he could be pickling dead people in formaldehyde. Charlotte sighed to herself and made a mental note to insist that he at least do a few chores while she was out.

Surprisingly the Undertaker wasn't hidden in a coffin, or in the shadows, or in a vat of salt (that had been a strange experiment). Instead he was sitting behind his table, two stacks of paper on either side of him. The left side was noticeably smaller than the right.

His already wide grin widened exponentially when he spotted her. "Lottie-dearest~!" He crawled over the desk, somehow managing not to knock any of the papers over, and came to hug her. "I've missed you~"

"You saw me a week ago," she reminded him with her face buried in his robes. He still smelled like formaldehyde, alcohol, and the ever present tang of ozone. "We saw each other at Sebastian's funeral, remember?"

"Right~" he chuckled and fixed his eyes on Snake, "I remember you~! You're the snake charmer from the circus~! Are you the one my Lottie keeps talking about?"

" _Lott – I mean, Charlotte talks about me?_ Says Oscar." Snake was so surprised and pleased by that bit of information that he blushed.

Charlotte freed one of her arms from the hug and pinched the mortician's sides. This was always tricky because finding his body underneath the robes was a challenge on its own. "Stop embarrassing me Papa! I just brought him over for some tea! Could you not be weird for just one hour?"

The Undertaker chortled and gestured for them to follow him. "Come, come~! I have a tin of biscuits somewhere, and some tea. Oh but I have no cups so you'll just have to manage the beakers~"

Charlotte scowled at his back. "What happened to the teacups I specifically bought for guests?"

"I put some specimens in them~."

" _That's what the beakers are for._ "

" _I don't mind using a beaker._ Says Oscar," Snake piped up as he picked his way through the barely lit room. Honestly how had the man been reading those papers in this gloom?

"See, he doesn't mind~" Undertaker pulled down a box of loose leaf tea and three beakers of varying sizes.

Charlotte levelled him with a stare. "That is no excuse. Are those beakers even clean?"

"Who knows~"

"Give me those," she snatched them from him and pointed to the crates and coffins that occasionally acted as seats with an imperious hand. "I will _not_ have you poisoning my friend just because you left cadisol or embalming fluid in there! You would be _awful_ at taking care of an actual human child."

Charlotte brought the beakers over to the tiny sink tucked in the back wall of the room. On her way there she passed by his desk and caught sight of a name next to a plain, unremarkable face.

 _Margaret Connor. Strange that Peggy is short for Margaret. Why is that? There is no 'p' in Margaret in the first place! Marguerite, Margie, Marjorie, Maggy, Meg..._

When she came back Undertaker was being slowly strangled by Oscar while Snake chewed on a biscuit and watched in fascination. " _He asked for it._ Says Oscar." He informed her when she sat down beside him.

"Of course he did," Charlotte replied with a wryly amused smile. "Papa, if you are quite done courting death."

The Undertaker laughed and carefully unwound the snake from his pale upper arm, revealing dark, serpentine bruises. "Why court death when you can make it your servant~?" He passed the Oscar back to Snake and poured teaspoonfuls of loose-leaf tea into a strainer and poured hot water over it, filling the containers with copper liquid that smelled faintly of vanilla. This was the Good Tea, the one they only brought out on special occasions. Charlotte smiled to herself.

"So," Undertaker took a long drink of his own cup, seeming to ignore the scalding heat, "what adventure are you and my Lottie going on next~?"

* * *

 **À cheval donné on ne regarde pas les dents -** The French way of saying "don't look a gift horse in the mouth" ** _  
_**

 **Yes a Frankenstein quote super original I know but in my defense u know Yana-sensei was already inspired by my girl Mary Shelley, Mother of Modern Science Fiction  
**

 **I almost didn't do this chapter I was going to jump straight into them being on the Campania but then I was like hol'up bitch calm tf down and pace ya self otherwise this story 'bout to be shorter than ya temper at the KFC drive-thru.**


	21. II La Campania

**La Campania**

* * *

~O~

 _She watched the gap between ship and shore grow to a huge gulf. Perhaps this was a little like dying, the departed no longer visible to the others, yet both still existed, only in different worlds_

 _-Susan Wiggs, The Charm School-_

~O~

* * *

"Ah the ocean~!"

Charlotte sighed as she marched ahead of the small party. The superstructure and funnel of the _Campania_ rose high above them, pale grey fumes puffing out from the gleaming black tips of the golden smokestacks. The deck was filled with numerous passengers either hurrying to their rooms or simply taking in the view of the sparkling blue ocean. The air was filled with the smell of brine, the sounds of chattering and high-pitched screams of excitement.

Within that mix of joy and exhilaration, the Phantomhives made for a very silent and sombre group. Well, with the exception of one of course.

"I just _love_ boat trips! I used to take them all the time when I was little! Of course that was on a ferry," Charlotte chuckled airily as she looked up at the clear afternoon sky with an airy smile, "this should be far more interesting! What do you think Snake?"

The man startled and stopped eying the crowd of people with hidden panic. He blinked at her and then gave a small shrug.

Charlotte beamed at him and slowed her steps so she could loop her arms with Snake's. He squeezed her fingers and gave her one of his rare smiles. "I bet Wilde would love it up here. As I was saying, _ce sera amusant!_ I certainly hope so at the very least, considering the reason we're here and the company we're keeping. _Qui vivra verra_ _as they say._ "

"Charlotte!"

She stopped chattering and cocked her head at Ciel curiously. "Yes?"

The earl pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath – it was something he'd been doing with increasing frequency lately. He glared at Charlotte. "I realise that I allowed you to come with us-"

"You have never let me do anything ever."

" _I let you come with us_ ," he repeated firmly. He had learned that a good way to deal with Charlotte was to just keep going and hope that she kept quiet. "So kindly hush and attempt to not draw attention to us. Alright?"

The woman huffed. " _Alright_ , I'll be like your English women. Needlework. Crumpets. Tea. Repression. Am I doing it right?" She arched a sharp eyebrow at Sebastian who was snickering into his glove behind Ciel's back and tossed a strand of blonde hair out of her eyes.

Ciel sighed loudly. "This is why no one likes French people."

"I resent that!" Charlotte placed a hand on her chest dramatically. "Also, isn't that your sweetheart?"

" _My what?_ " Ciel spun around and caught the familiar sight of Elizabeth's pigtails bobbing between the skirts and legs of the other passengers. As though she had sensed his attention, the girl turned and their eyes met with an equal show of surprise.

"Um," Ciel managed a smile that he hoped didn't look as awkward as he felt. "Hello Elizabeth. I thought I'd surprise you."

Then, as he was thrown backwards from the force of her embrace, Ciel realised that he'd had no need to worry. " _Ciel!_ I'm so glad to see you! I can't believe you're here! You even brought Charlotte!" Elizabeth leaned over to wave happily at the other blonde who waved back. The two had bonded quite nicely over the past few weeks, mostly over fashion and hair and gossip. Charlotte didn't mind; Lizzy was a lovely girl who also came from a strict family, so the older woman could relate to quite a few of her problems.

Speaking of a strict family though...

"Elizabeth!" A voice as sharp as glass cut through the air and froze the little girl in place. The Marchioness Francis Phantomhive-Midford was a formidable-looking woman; tall with greying blonde hair that she kept pinned back in a severe bun save for a few strands that framed a face that did not betray her age. It was clear that time had been good to her. Now if only she could learn to have a good time.

Charlotte mentally patted herself on the back for that bit of witticism as she turned to the other Midfords. The Marquis was tall and imposing, but not nearly as intimidating as his wife, and as for the son...

Charlotte smiled as he yelled something about not accepting Ciel as his brother-in-law. Well, he was just as uninteresting as the father save for his affection for his little sister. Honestly, it was as though all the exciting personality traits were with the women.

Suddenly the Marchioness turned her attention on Sebastian and Snake. Sebastian mustered up a polite but forced smile and it was all Charlotte could do not to laugh. "Good day to you," he greeted with a bow. The Marchioness continued to stare at him with such a furiously unhappy expression that even Charlotte considered taking several steps backwards.

Finally she pointed at Sebastian. "Ugh, your face!" She decided with a grimace. "You possess such an indecent face! And that hairstyle! It's abhorrent!"

The sudden and outlandish declaration made Charlotte snort out a laugh which made the Marchioness's eyes switch over to her. The older woman cocked her head thoughtfully as Charlotte instinctively straightened up under her scrutiny.

"And who might you be?" She asked, glancing briefly at Snake for a few seconds before fixing her eyes back on Charlotte.

Remembering her manners, Charlotte promptly dropped into a neat curtsey. "Charlotte Élodie Madeleine Blanc, at your service Marchioness Midford. And this is my adopted brother, Snake; it is an honour to meet you."

"Oh!" The Marchioness's eyes widened in surprise and then she nodded sharply like a military general appraising a soldier in line. "Good manners and excellent posture!" She barked. "Elizabeth could learn something from you."

As a young woman who had never had – what she considered – a proper mother or mother-figure, Charlotte felt a sudden flurry of pleasure at the older woman's strict maternal approval. She straightened up and caught sight of Ciel and Edward glaring at her. She smirked and stuck her tongue out at them behind the Marchioness's back and then winked at Elizabeth. The younger girl giggled, quite used to her mother's harsh mannerisms.

Charlotte ducked her head down swiftly when the Marchioness returned her attention to her. "I am honoured to hear that," she replied demurely.

Ciel rolled his eyes so hard he almost saw stars. That wasn't even her actual accent! Sebastian cleared his throat diffidently. "If I might interrupt, shall we adjourn to the dining room? I believe lunch is to be served quite soon."

* * *

oOo

* * *

Sometime in the space of time between the upper deck and the dining room, the Marchioness had forced the sharp fangs of a rat tail comb through Sebastian's hair and then Snake's. Charlotte appreciated the Marchioness's tact as she hadn't mentioned the iridescent aqua scales that covered Snake's neck and cheeks despite her surreptitious glances.

"So," the Marquis said jovially over the arrangement of tea and cakes, "you will be with us for the whole three weeks?"

"Yes, I plan to be," Ciel nodded as politely as he could. It was always best to be on good terms with the relatives, no matter how trying they might be.

"Oh that's wonderful!" Elizabeth leaned closer to him, her excitement so blatant and genuine that the boy felt a little bit guilty. A little bit. "We've never been together for so long! _Oh, oh!_ – Will you escort me to the dinner party?"

"Um-" Ciel slid a wary glance across the table to where Edward was glaring straight at him with metaphorical thunder and lightning crackling in his eyes. "Of course..."

 _I can afford that,_ he thought to himself with a disgruntled expression that he hid behind a sip of bland tea, _the meeting of the Aurora Society isn't for another three nights._ According to Sebastian's information, it was slated to take place the night of the Campania's premier dinner party, probably because most attention would be off them then.

Beside him Elizabeth was giggling and talking about what outfit she should wear that night. "I'll wear something new that you've never seen before! That way you'll be surprised!"

Ciel did not tell her that he had never seen her wear the same thing twice ever and, even if she had, he had never paid attention to her clothes before and did not plan to start any time soon. No he did not say this and simply took a bite of cake to avoid speaking at all.

"Oh but I don't doubt that you will be dressed wonderfully all the same!" Charlotte told the younger girl with a charming smile. "You have always worn such pretty clothes! Every time I see you it is something darling!"

"Oh Ms. Charlotte, the same goes for you! I love your dress!"

"Oh, this old thing? That is so kind of you! Marquis and Marchioness, your daughter is so lovely, if you don't mind me saying!"

Sebastian and Ciel stared in disbelief as both the Marquis and _Marchioness_ both looked pleased. Ciel didn't think the older woman was capable of _smiling_! Her face always looked like it would crack in two if her lips rose even a centimetre too high!

Half an hour later when the group was walking down the fairly spacious corridors with their golden lights and making its way to their rooms, he finally burst. " _What was that?_ "

"That?" Charlotte said in her normal accent and a full rotation of her arms. "That was pure flattery and it's what you do when trying to ingratiate yourself. Also, no matter how many issues you darling _rosbifs_ have with the French, most of you think our accents are delightful and find our effusiveness eccentrically charming."

"An interesting approach," Sebastian murmured to himself.

Charlotte flipped her hair and turned to her claimed brother. "Snake, do you want to stay in my room or do you want to sleep with the others tonight?"

The silent man looked at her for a long moment and then his eyes dropped to the ground.

Charlotte nodded and held out her hand to him. "Then I will come with you! We can explore together!" Snake took her hand with a small smile and began fiddling with her fingers the way he did when he was nervous but couldn't or didn't want to show it.

She waved at the two men, keeping her head facing them until she and Snake turned a corner were out of sight.

The shift from unreserved luxury to dank poverty occurred somewhere between the second and third levels. The carpet grew more holes and rips until it finally disappeared and gave way to cold metal barely covered by old rags. Charlotte left Snake curled up in a nest of snakes with a sack of scraps purloined from the kitchen before she turned her attention to the expansive ship.

It was filled with crawl-spaces, dumbwaiters, tunnels and vents. Charlotte found herself directly above several rooms and spotted a number of scandalous things, including two women cuddling in the centre of a small bed.

One of the tunnels spat her in one of the lower levels. Unfortunately before she could resume her exploration, Charlotte was interrupted by a man sporting an odd hairstyle and a pair of chartreuse eyes behind clear glasses. His surprised expression from bumping into her soon transformed into a rakish grin. "Well good evening. What's a lady doing down he-"

" _Excusez-moi?_ "Charlotte interrupted. "I do not understand English."

"Oh, my bad!" He said before switching to near perfect French. " _Bonsoir, belle femme_."

Now Charlotte Blanc had many flaws, including but not limited to – being selfish, manipulative, arrogant, and an _intense fear_ of needles – but her greatest flaw, one she'd had even before her unfortunate accident, was Vanity.

The French girl immediately pretended to blush and wave coquettishly. " _Je suis sûr que tu dis ça à toutes les fille_."

" _Pas du tout, en fait_ _-_ " he took a step closer and immediately froze in place. He stared at her like she was something terrible.

Charlotte hid a smirk with a pout. " _Que se passe-t-il?_ "

"Nothing!" He seemed to have forgotten his French entirely.

" _Bonne-nuit_ ," Charlotte breezed past him and soon found herself back in the lavish halls of the upper deck. There she berated herself. Not only had she taunted him, she had essentially locked herself out of the lower levels by giving her presence away.

However, she frowned and glanced backwards, why was he on board? Was there really something to the Aurora Society's claims? There couldn't possibly be, right?

 _The smart thing to do in this situation would be to tell Ciel immediately,_ said the angel on her shoulder

 _On the other hand,_ the devil immediately rebutted, _one didn't get to see Them in action often. Charlotte herself had only met the one._

 _On the other, other hand_ , said a third that charlotte couldn't quite fit into the Angel/Devil binary, _it might be worth it to wake Ciel up and see his annoyed face._

Hm, decision, decisions...

A few minutes later Sebastian opened the door to Ciel's room and stared down at a grinning Charlotte. "Is there a reason you came knocking at 2 in the morning?" He asked in a deadpan manner.

"Is Ciel awake?" Charlotte inquired, bending this way and that to see past him. "I have news~!"

"Any news you have can be passed on to me, or you can wait until morning," Sebastian replied without moving, "when the young master is awake."

"Oh, I suppose. I just thought it was rather urgent," the women shrugged with affected disinterest and turned to walk away. "Seeing as it has to do with the case and all, I just thought you'd like to know about it."

Sebastian arched an eyebrow. "Know about what?"

Charlotte glanced over her shoulder with a smile. "About the Reaper."

* * *

 **I've gotten better at creating OCs but ya'll know that SOMEONE is going to roll up no matter what and declare any female character with a modicum of competence as a Mary Sue. So here I am, giving Charlotte flaws, actually lining them up so I can be like "um actually if u refer to chapter 21, paragraph 57"**

 **Also a Mary Sue is a character who breaks the universe they are in to suit themselves. A character being nice and competent is not a Mary Sue, a character who is simply a self-insert is not a Mary Sue. Not liking a character doesn't make them a Mary Sue, it just means you don't like them!**

 **This has been a speech by Queen Blue, thank you for coming to my TedTalk.**


	22. III The Aurora Society

**The Aurora Society**

* * *

~O~

" _Nothing is impossible to kill. It's just that sometimes after you kill something you have to keep shooting it until it stops moving"_

 _-Mira Grant, Feed-_

~O~

* * *

The day of the party dawns and Charlotte was practically effervescent. She and Elizabeth walled themselves up within the younger girl's bedroom for almost the entire day, only coming out to eat and giggle at one another like vapid birds. For Ciel whose patience for such things was incredibly short, it was only the Marchioness's eagle-eyed stare that kept him from screaming with frustration and pushing Charlotte off the edge of the ship.

He wondered if she would float. She probably would. Witches floated, didn't they?

The evening came and the two finally emerged. Elizabeth was dressed in a grey-blue dress that matched Ciel's suit, with silk gloves that went all the way up her arms and over her elbows and left a sliver of skin between the ends and the puffed sleeves. Her blonde hair was still tied up in pigtails – Ciel had no idea why she persisted in maintaining that juvenile style – and decorated with a black headband. She looked nice.

Charlotte's outfit was an eye-turning shade of amaranth pink. The skirt flared out, just long enough to touch the floor but not long enough to hide the glimpse of the black heels she wore. It was decorated with black ribbons and bows. With it she wore a pair of jet-black evening gloves. The top had an illusion neckline of dark, almost opaque black lace and around her neck was a bright yellow ribbon.

"I couldn't get her to take it off," Elizabeth whispered mournfully to Ciel as though that was the biggest tragedy imaginable. "It doesn't even match her outfit!"

Ciel could only muster up a disinterested grunt. Then he decided to be kinder and nodded awkwardly at Elizabeth. "You look nice," he mumbled inelegantly. Still with the way that Elizabeth beamed at him you would have thought that he had asked for her hand in marriage.

The ballroom, already a luxurious affair, had been done up for the party. People in silk and chiffon milled around the floor, the typical English sedateness giving way to excited squeals of recognition and joy at being on this grand high-seas adventure. There are circular tabled piled high with hors d'oeuvres and desserts on dainty dishes and waiters in immaculate black suits slip between the crowds, offering delicate glasses of shimmering champagne from silver trays.

Elizabeth let out an excited squeal of happiness. "That cake is so cute! Stay right here Ciel, I'm going to get some food for us!"

She took off and was soon lost between the shifting skirts of the other partygoers. Charlotte watched her go with an amused smirk. "What a darling girl," she mused aloud glancing slyly at Ciel, "but she doesn't seem at all like your type Phantomhive."

"Shut up and go look for something suspicious," he growled at her.

Charlotte pouted and put a hand on her collar. "Aw, it's almost like you want to get rid of me."

"Whatever gave you that idea?" Ciel scowled at her and then turned his glare upon the shifting masses. "Ugh, nobles really don't do anything but gather and talk about irrelevant things."

"It's a party Phantomhive. That's what _everyone_ does at parties," Charlotte gracefully accepted a glass from a passing waiter and sipped it. "Oh Snake, did you get something to eat?"

Snake held up a plate stacked high with bites of salmon and beef on bread and fruit. Charlotte was sure the snakes were going to have a wonderful dinner since they usually just got rats and mice.

There was a flutter of black and Sebastian appeared beside them, holding out an expertly arranged platter of food to Ciel. "The signal appears to be the waiters," he inclined his head in the direction of a waiter holding a tray of champagne glasses, one of which was empty. He moved slowly around the guests until someone stopped him and plucked the empty glass from his tray, exchanged a few words with him, and then walked off. With the thrum of the orchestra and the distracting nature of the party, no one else seemed to have noticed or cared about this odd occurrence.

A quick glance around the room showed that most if not all of the waiters seemed to be carrying at least one empty champagne glass. After a moment Ciel looked away and took a bite of an éclair. "Keep the signal in sight," he ordered.

Charlotte hung by a table, watching the dancing couples with a wistful smile. She was not a wallflower by any means but it was quite hard to dance and keep watch of a constantly shifting target. Of course she could always leave that up to Sebastian who apparently enjoyed being a one-man-team and then rubbing his competence in everyone's face, however that still didn't solve her problem of having no dance partner.

She sighed softly, recalling the days from Before; when her father allowed her to get dolled up and dressed in silks and chiffon so she could waltz and twirl across the floor, flitting from partner to partner. Of course she knew now that he was only ever concerned with marrying her off to one of those partners but they had been the happiest nights of her life back then.

As though sensing her thoughts, Snake held out his hand to her. The question was clear and she beamed linked their fingers together. There were whispers of contempt and shock but Charlotte blocked them out easily. When she saw Snake beginning to look flushed and awkward she snapped him out of it.

"Look at me. Don't look at them. They don't matter," she spun him around so his back was to the chattering women and, with a perfectly straight face, made a rude finger gesture at them behind his back. "I know crowds make you nervous but thank you for dancing with me."

Blushing, Snake lowered his head. Charlotte noticed a tiny snake coiled around his ear and hidden by his hair. Charlotte had met all of his snakes but not this one. " _What if I embarrass you?_ Says Dan. _I'm not like you._ "

Charlotte smiled and shook her head. "Snake, if anyone should be feeling like a freak here, it's me." She pulled down the ribbon around her neck to reveal a ring of red, painfully healed scars. "I don't care what people say about me, and neither should you. You're kind and lovely and the opinions of screeching harpies mean nothing in the face of who you are. So chin up and introduce me to Dan! Is he new?"

Before he could though, a woman in a velvet-green dress picked the empty glass from a tray and began making her way to the curved staircase. With a parting flutter of fingers, Charlotte quickly followed her.

The noise of the party fell away as Charlotte trailed the woman up the carpeted stairs to one of the upper levels. The corridor was empty save for two men standing outside a large door that led to the smoking room for first class passengers. The first man was holding a crystal jug and he smiled beatifically at the woman. "Would you like a glass of 'completely purified water?'" He asked her. "It costs £30."

 _Who on earth would spend £30 on something so stupid?_ Charlotte wondered to herself 6 minutes later as she crawled through the vents. Her dress was going to end up completely ruined from the dust but at least she had a fairly excellent view of the room's proceedings. As it turned out, there were a lot of people willing to pay a lot of money for what essentially amounted to tap water with glitter in it.

She caught sight of what appeared to be a sort of greeting and had to choke back her laughter. Luckily the person beside her had no qualms about that. "An interesting hiding spot, Lottie~."

" _Papa?_ " Charlotte bumped her head against the top of the vent in her surprise. "What are you doing here?"

"My job~," he knelt down and, under the cover of his voluminous cloak, pulled Lottie into the room. "Someone is claiming to be able to reanimate dead people. Did you expect me to not be interested~?" He asked, plucking spiderwebs from her hair.

"Fair enough," Charlotte agreed. She did her best to dust herself clean, cursing herself for picking such a light coloured outfit, and then threw herself into his arms. "I'm so happy to see you!"

" _You!_ What are you doing here?" Ciel marched over to them; Ciel in a blond wig and bandage. He looked terrible as a blond Charlotte decided as she eyed the stark black suit he was wearing. Clearly he had no idea how to dress for his new colouring.

"That does seem to be a recurring question," Undertaker hummed as he put Charlotte down and began rifling through his cloak. "But before I forget, I have something for you dearest~!"

Charlotte lit up like a Christmas tree, almost bouncing on the balls of her feet. "A present? What is it? What's it for? Tell me! Wait," she frowned up at him, "what _is_ it for? My birthday isn't until next week."

"That's true, but can't a father give his daughter an early present?" He pulled out a long rectangular box wrapped in bright pink and blue paper and tied with yellow ribbon: all three of Charlotte's favourite colours. When she shook it, the box rattled faintly. "Who knows what will happen next week~?"

Charlotte's frown grew more intense. "That was an ominous thing to say."

"You didn't answer my question!" Ciel interrupted hotly. " _What are you doing here?_ We're investigating some illegal experimentation and something about the reanimation of the dead. Do you know anything about that?"

The Undertaker chuckled. "If I'm going to tell you then I want my compensation~." He pretended to think deeply for a second. "How about...you do that pose one more time~!"

" _Who the hell would even-!_ "

" _THE PHOENIX!_ Sorry I decided to pose in my own style."

The man standing in the doorway was familiar to everyone present, from the long blond hair down to the expensive wine-red suit. "The Viscount Druitt? What is _he_ doing here?"

"It seems there are a lot of surprising faces aboard this liner," Sebastian commented. They watched the Viscount shake hands with several people though scandalous whispers followed in his wake.

"I thought he was in jail," Charlotte wondered as she hefted the box higher to hide her face. "Also he's coming over here."

"Shit." Ciel barely had time to duck behind Sebastian before the man walked over.

"Oh, are you newcomers?" He inquired, tapping his glass against Sebastian's in greeting. "Was it the newspaper article? Ugh, Madam Samuel is such a lovely woman but she certainly enjoys her gossip. To think that she would release our secrets so easily. Oh?"

Apparently the Viscount's radar for beauty was more finely tuned than any of them had predicted. He zeroed in on Ciel and Charlotte with a smouldering grin. "Siblings? How darling! Tell me, have we met before? I certainly would remember faces like yours."

Charlotte snickered to herself at how panicked Ciel seemed to be. She didn't know the whole sordid tale but she had pieced together enough from newspaper articles. She looked to her side to share her amusement with the Undertaker but he had vanished.

No matter, the show was starting. From the front corner of the room four men bearing a coffin walked sedately into the room, the voices of the gathered attendees growing silent as they placed their burden down on a table in the centre of the room. They stepped back to make way for the next man to come in and the Viscount leaned closer to whisper, "that man is the founder of our illustrious society! His name is Ryan Stoker."

Ryan Stoker looked exactly like what a mad scientist would not. He was of medium build with short plain brown hair and a plain face with a genial smile. The one thing about him that made him stand out was his suit; it was stark white and gave him an air of gravitas.

Then he performed the Aurora Society salute and all of that was lost.

"I swear if you laugh and get us kicked out I will throw you overboard," Ciel hissed at Charlotte who could only nod and bite her lip to keep a straight face.

Ryan Stoker continued to address the gathered. "Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming to today's research presentation of the Aurora Society's _Complete Salvation of Mankind Through Medicine!_ Picture it my friends; a healthy spirit _housed within_ a healthy body! And finally," he punched the air in an overdramatic display of his own vitality. "A healthy mood!"

He continued with this spiel for a quite a while, sounding less and less like a medical professional and more and more like a snake oil peddler with every word. Charlotte distracted herself with her present, trying to guess what was in the brightly coloured box.

"...however there is one health issue that, no matter how hard we try, we cannot seem to overcome!" Ryan slammed his hand down on the coffin, causing everyone to jump. "Death! It is the great disease that comes for us all in the end, but not anymore! Not with the invention of the Aurora Society's new cure!"

 _I can't believe people are buying this,_ Charlotte rolled her eyes as the four men for earlier lifted the lid of the coffin and the crowd surged forward. _It's going to be so funny when this whole charade fails._

Within the coffin was the body of a young woman. Her brown hair fell gently around her face and her eyes had been blindfolded. Her face and collar were stitched together in several places. A couple near the front began weeping and it could be easily surmised that they were the young lady's parents.

"Margaret Connor lost her life at the tender age of 17 in an unfortunate accident," Stoker informed the crowd in a sombre voice. "To think that our children could leave us so easily and so permanently; isn't that horrifying?"

Ciel leaned over to Sebastian. "Is the body real?"

"Most likely," the demon's nose twitched. "The smell of death is intense. It's either real or a very good fake."

The audience watched as a machine was wheeled in. It was over 6ft tall, and covered in an array of buttons, switches and dials. Wires from it were unwound and attached to the young woman, some on her scalp and stomach but the majority of them were attached to her chest and neck. Charlotte felt her own neck itch.

 _Margaret Connor? Where have I heard that before...?_

When the last wire had been attached Stoker grabbed the largest switch and faced the gathering with a wide grin. "Behold, _the complete salvation!_ " He shouted, and then he forced it down. The machine roared and sparked into action. Bright blue-white lightning arced along the wires and lit up the coffin like a storm. The lights of the room blinked and flickered and a few of them popped, showering whatever unfortunate souls happened to be below them in glass shards.

After a few seconds of the lightshow, the machine powered down. An expectant hush fell over the room as every eye was fixed on the body. Charlotte blinked to dispel the afterimages and then gaped in shock as the corpse proceeded to _sit up_.

The room erupted into cheers and applause. The sobbing couple embraced their daughter. "Sebastian, what the hell is going on?!" Ciel yelled above the cheering. "Did he really revive a corpse?!"

Apparently not. In view of everyone, the mouth of the corpse opened wide enough to break the stitches on its face, and tore out the neck of the mother. Arterial blood and gore sprayed those closest to the spectacle, drenching them. In a second the applause turned to screams of terror as people scrambled and ran for the doors.

The demon pulled out several knives and threw them at the monster doing its best to clamber out of its coffin. It fell off the table, twitching violently. "Did you get it?" Ciel pulled off his wig and took a hesitant step forward.

"Stay back!" Sebastian ordered. Just then the monster arced up. It moved in sharp, jerky motions like its body wasn't quite its own. The bones cracked into place as it got to its feet and hen it let out a high-pitched screech. "I'm sure I stabbed her in the heart. This is something I do not understand. It's almost like-"

"It's almost like me," Charlotte realised with dawning horror.

* * *

 **What do u guys think is in Charlotte's present? Actually nvm it's a weapon but what kind of weapon? If you guess right I'll...idk I'll give u a cameo in one of the upcoming chapters? Is that what kids want these days?  
**


	23. IV Rose Tinted View

**Rose Tinted View**

* * *

~O~

 _Children betrayed their parents by becoming their own people_

 _-Leslye Walton, The Strange and Beautiful Sorrows of Ava Lavender-_

~O~

* * *

Charlotte's head was spinning, so much so that she failed to notice that a few members of the Aurora Society hadn't run screaming. Ryan Stoker took a few steps back, a grimace of fear twisting his face.

"Shit, it failed!" He then whirled around to flap his arms at the men behind him. "Well what are you waiting for? Shoot it!"

The men whipped out pistols from the inside of their jackets, oddly well-prepared for what was supposed to be a simple gathering, and showered the corpse in a hail of bullets. However that didn't seem to have any effect on it as the woman just twisted around and lunged for one of the men, knocking him down. His screams combined horrifically with the sounds of her teeth tearing his throat open.

Charlotte spotted the white tails of Stoker's coat disappearing out the door. "He's getting away!"

She started to run forward but the monster's head snapped up and turned to stare sightlessly in her direction. Ciel gritted his teeth. "How can we get past that thing?"

"What if I dismember it so that it cannot physically move?" Sebastian suggested, pulling out several more knives from his person.

"Good idea! How about something like this?"

A man riding the oddest machine Charlotte had ever seen with what looked like hundreds of spinning blades suddenly flew into the room and smashed into the creature's skull. Blood, viscera and bone sprayed across the room, drenching the immediate area. Charlotte stared blankly down at her ruined dress and gloves and then back at the man.

It was the Reaper from the night before. She watched him park his machine and pull out a notebook to confirm something, and then he gaped at it in shock. "What the hell?! I knew she was already dead! I told the boss I personally collected her soul! Ugh, guess I'll just collect these guys..."

"So that's the reaper you saw?" Ciel's voice jerked her out of her blank state.

"...yes," Charlotte replied softly.

The man turned to blink at them as though he had forgotten that they were even there. He cocked his head at Charlotte and leaned over his death-blade as though trying to get a closer look at her. "Oh, I know you! You're that girl...well I have no idea _what_ you are. And _you_ ," he switched his attention to Sebastian, "that outfit, would you be the rumoured Bassy?"

 _Bassy?_ Charlotte mouthed bemusedly while Sebastian hid a grimace behind a polite smile. "I have quite an aversion to that name, but yes that would be me. Who might you be?"

He tipped his hat with a rakish grin. "Ronald Knox of the Reaper Dispatch Association, at your service. Thanks for taking care of my senior."

Sebastian chose to ignore this in favour of getting right down to business. "You just said that these things couldn't be killed unless you smashed their skulls. Do the Reapers know something about this?"

"No, we don't know anything either," he kicked the corpse's leg gingerly as though he expected it to lunge back up. "I know it's a soulless corpse because I collected the soul of Margaret Connor two weeks ago."

Ciel stroked his chin thoughtfully. "So it's not the dead being revived, just their bodies moving. They're just shifting flesh," he said. Almost simultaneously he, Sebastian and Ronald turned to stare at Charlotte. After a moment of silence she blinked back at them.

"...no," She took a step back but they didn't say anything and they didn't stop _staring_. "No! I still have a soul! I'm not some walking corpse! I am _nothing_ like these things!"

Ciel made a face that projected just how little he believed that. Sebastian voiced his opinion aloud. "You said it yourself Charlotte," the demon pointed out, "even you don't know how your body works. You may not act like these things, but you can't rule out the possibility that you're more like them than you realise."

Time seemed to slow down for the young woman. She had no idea what to think and she didn't want to think because she could see the inevitable conclusion and it hurt her like a metaphorical sword to the chest. _Could he really have...?_ No, she couldn't dwell on it. Instead she clung to anger, blind, irrational anger. "I am _not_ a walking corpse. _I am not a monster!_ "

She ran blindly from the room and Ciel watched her go with a pained scowl. God why did women get so hysterical? You point out the possibility of them being similar to a cannibalistic walking lump of flesh and they start crying. He pinched the bridge of his nose but spotted Ronald's hands moving purposely to his blade. "Sebastian!"

The spinning blades came perilously close to demon's face before he managed to grab them and hold it at bay. Ronald leaned in, "if administration gets wind of there being a demon on board, you can bet they'll think I skived off work and let you eat them! I'll end up doing overtime, so why don't you just die already?"

Ciel turned to bolt after Stoker and Charlotte. "Come find me once you're done here," he barked over his shoulder and then he ran from the room.

The corridors were quiet and clean, and had Ciel not been witness to the events that had gone on before then he might have thought the whole thing was nothing more than a bad dream. He ran on, finally coming to a set of spiral staircases that went down into near-darkness. Narrowing his eyes, the young boy pulled a custom pistol from his jacket and loaded it full of bullets.

Keeping his back to the wall, Ciel made his way down the steep steps, so focused on the view before him that he didn't notice the shadow following behind him and screamed when it touched his shoulders.

To be fair, it screamed back as well and Ciel whirled around and glared exasperatedly at Elizabeth. " _What are you doing here?!_ " He hissed and lowered his gun from where he had nearly blown a hole in her face.

Rather than being at all shaken by nearly dying, Elizabeth pouted. "I saw you run off and followed you here! You just disappeared even though I told you to wait for me. I even brought you ca-!"

There was a sound from the darkness prompting Ciel to clap a hand over her mouth and drag her down. "Hush! I'm sorry but I cannot be fussed with you right now so just go back to Aunt Frances, alright?"

He left her there and continued on. Eventually the staircase ended in a tiny area that led into what looked like a storeroom. There were crates and boxes everywhere so it could be surmised that this was where some of the luggage that was too large to be carried onto the main deck was being kept. There was an unlit lantern hanging on a hook on the wall. Ciel fished in his pocket and pulled out a lighter.

The tiny flame flared brightly behind the glass of the iron lamp, illuminating a large circle before him with orange-yellow light. Ciel walked on, peering around the corners warily until he caught sight of something large and humanoid moving in the shadows.

Immediately he whirled around, gun pointing forward. "Who's there?!" The light fell on Snake and several other of his namesakes who hissed loudly in response to the sudden flare of brightness. "Snake?! What the hell are you doing down here?!"

He held up the platter in his hand as though it explained everything. " _The food upstairs was really good so I thought I'd share it with everyone._ Says Dan."

"The cake was even better than the food!" Someone piped up.

Ciel nodded understandingly, not really paying attention. "I see, that might be so – wait, _Lizzy?_ " He whirled around to gape furiously at her.

"You just left me! Again!"

"I told you to go back upstairs!"

"I just wanted you to eat the cake!" She whined and Ciel was reminded once again why he really did not enjoy the thought of marrying her. "Look, it even has strawberries! They're your favourite!"

She held up the plate only to find it empty. Just then something staggered out from the shadows right behind her, groaning loudly with arms outstretched and a mouth smeared with butter-cream. Ciel's heart lurched. " _Lizzy, get down!_ "

The thing would have taken off her head had he not leaped forward and yanked her out of its reach. The two fell backwards and Ciel's back collided with the crates behind him. "This isn't the one we saw before! _There are more of them?!_ "

The man stumbled closer, too close, and then something flashed out of the darkness. A long silver chain wrapped around the thing's neck and yanked it backwards into the blackness. There was a sound, a horrible snapping noise, and then footsteps.

Charlotte stepped out of the darkness. She wasn't smiling and her eyes were emptier than Ciel had ever seen them. She was also holding a scythe which was new. It had a large, wickedly sharp blade connected to the staff by long silver chain. Charlotte blinked at Ciel. "You were right."

"What?" Ciel asked, surprise and fear clouding his cognitive capabilities for a moment.

Instead of answering, Charlotte pressed something on the staff and the blade shot back to its original position. Then she picked up the lamp and lifted it, throwing light upon a terrifying sight.

Rows upon rows of dark red coffins dangled from the ceiling of the storage room, all with the same golden emblem of a bird, all padlocked shut. One began to shake, and then another, soon the room reverberated and rang with the same banging and grotesque roars of hundreds of monstrous creatures.

One padlock broke and then another. Charlotte handed Ciel the lantern with uncharacteristic solemnity. "The three of you should run. They won't touch me."

" _No! I'm not leaving you!_ Says Goethe," Snake grabbed her arm and yanked her along with they turned and ran from the oncoming horde. Fortunately for them the narrow and crowded hallways made pursuit difficult. Whatever those things were, they clearly didn't have any form of higher intelligence. They were fueled entirely by hunger.

 _Hunger for what though?_ Ciel wondered just as they found themselves at a dead end, the only exit blocked by a locked door. "Snake, take Charlotte and Lizzy to the top of the luggage! I'll ward them o-!"

He yelped when Charlotte picked him up. She held him like he weighed nothing and then tossed him onto one of the higher ledges. "Stay put," she said curtly.

Ciel tried to jump down but Snake caught him and pulled him back up. "What the hell do you think you are doing?!" He yelled down at her. "If you think sacrificing yourself will somehow-"

Charlotte interrupted him with a laugh. It was high, hysterical, but it was the most in-character thing he had heard from her ever since this whole shitshow had begun. "For you?" She said. "Don't be absurd Phantomhive, I'm not doing this for _you_. I'm doing this because I _hate_ these things with every fibre of this _thing_ that I am. And if _he_ thinks he can make new, cheap, _fake_ replicas, _then he can think again._ "

The next moments were a bloodbath. Snakes wrapped around the writhing corpses, holding them still while Charlotte carved through the mass like a demon. She fought like someone with something to prove, with fury, with so much despair that it was almost palpable through all the blood flying everywhere. The creatures fell to the ground in pieces, some missing their heads, others their legs and arms and she still kept going. However Ciel noticed something odd.

These things, whatever they were, as soon as they came close to Charlotte they slowed down. Their arms lowered a fraction and, if he could assign an emotion to them, if they could even _feel_ much in terms of emotions, he would say that they looked _confused_.

"Looks like I got here late."

Charlotte paused for a moment and turned to stare at Sebastian through the blood dripping into her eyes. He stared back at her and then around the room, taking in the bodies littering the ground, the three still perched high on the luggage, the snakes, and finally the straggling creatures. He pressed his lips together and sighed. "Shall I finish them off?"

The woman blinked at him perplexedly and then she looked around as though she had just realised what she had done. As he made his way over to decapitate the survivors, Charlotte dropped to her knees and stared down at herself. Her body was entirely covered in gore but she couldn't any of feel it, just what was on her face. She could feel the stiff flakes of where the blood had dried on her skin, the sticky tangles of hair. Behind her she heard Sebastian helping Ciel and Elizabeth down from the luggage stacks and then she felt a hand on her shoulder.

Snake peered down at her worriedly. " _Are you okay?_ Says Dan."

"Me?" She cocked her head as though she had to think about it. "No. I am not okay. I will be once we get off this ship though. Where is he?"

"Ah, about that," Sebastian yanked one of the crates open, revealing the trembling Stoker in all this unassuming glory. The man screamed upon seeing them and tried to bolt but Sebastian grabbed him by the back of his collar. "Stop squirming sir. Why not sit down and tell us your plans? We have plenty of time before we reach New York."

Stoker kept struggling. "No, we can't! We don't have time!"

"What do you mean by that?" Ciel barked. "We already took care of the corpses-"

"No you haven't! This ship has _two_ storage units!" He revealed; his face white and devoid of any other emotion other than pure terror. "And in that one, we stored ten times as many samples as here!"

" _Ten times as many?!_ " Ciel repeated in shock.

"B-But don't worry!" He hastened to add. "I have a machine! Once switched on it should immediately render them all dea-!"

Unfortunately for Ryan Stoker, Charlotte had taken this new revelation very badly. So badly in fact that she immediately stabbed Stoker through the shoulder with her scythe. Actually she was aiming for his chest but Sebastian had caught her movement and shifted out of the way. Stoker screamed, Ciel screeched, and even Sebastian looked concerned but that was probably because the tip of the blade had come worryingly close to his own chest.

" _What the hell Charlotte?!_ " Ciel grabbed her by the collar and yanked her down, which was a surprise as the young boy wasn't given much to feats of strength or brute force. "If you had killed him we wouldn't have had a way to take these things out!"

She stared back at him sedately with those wide blue eyes. "His machine won't work anyway," she told them all.

"And how the hell do you know that?" He snarled in her face.

She just smiled and pulled out of his grip. The she gracefully walked over to the shaking man until they were nearly face to face and looked him in the eye. "Tell me, who gave you the idea for this?"

"Wh-What are you talking about? I came up with this on my own!"

His eyes jumped from the ceiling to the floor, to her dress. Sebastian frowned and stared down at him in surprise. "He's lying."

Honestly the idea that Stoker hadn't been the one who really create these things had occurred to Ciel at some point. The man was too much of a coward. The man had struck him as being fairly similar to the Viscount; arrogant and in love with his own self-importance but entirely willing to piggyback off the resources of others.

Making a snap decision, Ciel turned to Sebastian. "Go take my aunt and any others to safety and come back once you're done."

"Yes, young master." He waited until one of the large constrictors had coiled itself securely around Stoker and then took in the direction of the upper decks.

Ciel fixed his glare on Stoker. "Who really gave you this idea?"

The doctor tried to wriggle and squirm but stopped when the boa came close to breaking his ribs. "I told you, I came up with this myself!" He gasped breathlessly and then passed out from a lack of oxygen.

Ciel stepped forward to slap the man awake. "We don't have time for this!"

Charlotte gripped his arm to stop him. "Don't bother Phantomhive. I already know who did it."

"You do?" He frowned at her. "How do you know that?"

"I thought it'd be obvious by now," the woman turned and walked away, the light from the door casting her in a silhouette. "You said it yourself; they're _exactly like me._ "

* * *

 **A quick rundown of Charlotte's 'powers'. All of her (except for her head) is made of some unknown alloy that I hesitate to call bone china which makes her stronger than the average person. She is also faster than the average person because she is virtually hollow. Finally, because she doesn't have muscles, she does not get physically tired.**

 **Why does Charlotte hate the Bizarre Dolls? Text your answers to 1-800-DEAR-GOD-PLEASE-VALIDATE-MY-EFFORTS or just review this chapter. Also congrats to everyone who guessed scythe like that wasn't obvious I'll PM ya'll and we can discuss cameos.**


	24. V Paradise Lost

**Paradise Lost**

* * *

~O~

 _"The greatest thing in the world is to know how to belong to oneself"_

 _-Michel de Montaigne, The Complete Essays-_

~O~

* * *

Charlotte had neither the patience nor the inclination to wait for Ciel to come to a decision or question the false doctor. Her feet took the stairs two, sometimes three at a time until she reached a higher deck where the screams were much clearer. The yellow lights made the bloodstains splattered on the walls look like black ink and the air was thick with the metallic scent of fresh blood.

The blade of her scythe cut through any corpses that made the unfortunate error of getting in her way. Charlotte hacked at them with prejudice, separating head from neck and legs from thighs. In all her years the young woman didn't think she'd ever been so angry.

" _Help!_ " Someone screamed. There was a man backed into the corner of bedroom. The door had been broken clear off its hinges by the unthinking brute shambling towards him. The man scrambled backwards, his face contorted in a rictus of primal fear. Charlotte recognised him by the pin on his lapel as a member of the Phoenix Society. " _Dear God please help me!_ "

Charlotte stepped into the room and, with a sharp flourish, sent the blade of the scythe flying through the skull of the corpse. It staggered once, twice, and then collapsed to the ground. The others stopped and turned to stare at her and Charlotte pulled back the chain in preparation.

However they didn't attack her. Instead they just stood there, occasionally swaying in place but not moving. Confused but still disgusted, Charlotte cut them all down. Once she was certain that they were all unmoving, she considered the man dispassionately for a second and then turned and walked out.

"Hey! Hey you!" He stumbled to his feet and ran after her, nearly slipping on the wet floor. "Who are you? Look, you seem like you're skilled enough to survive this; how about you protect me huh? I'll even pay you for it!"

"Not interested," Charlotte replied shortly. Then something occurred to her and she turned around and walked back to the man. "You're a member of that stupid society, aren't you?"

The businessman puffed out his chest proudly, much to Charlotte's scorn. As if this was any reason to be proud. "That I am," he informed her with a too-white grin. "A high-ranking member in fact! I donated a lot of money to this medical venture you know!"

"Did you?" Charlotte hummed, tapping her finger against her chin. "So you thought money would let you defy a fundamental law of the universe?"

"Oi, don't look so high-and-mighty you blond tart," he growled at her and got to his feet. "Just get me out of here and I'll make it worth your while!"

"I said I wasn't interested."

"Don't be so hasty, I'm pretty well-off you know! Maybe I'll keep you on as a mistress. Give you jewellery and pretty trinkets; isn't that what you girls like?"

" _...vous êtes très grossier_."

"Wha- _hurk!_ "

Charlotte crouched down beside the man and watched his fingers scrabble to keep the blood inside his shoulder as his other arm hung uselessly by his side. "It's very rude to insist when a lady says no. Remember that." She left him soaking in a pool of its own blood. _That was a tad unnecessary_ , she decided as she turned a corner and found herself standing before a horde of monsters. _I'll do far worse to them._

Her goal was the ballroom, or to be more specific a certain person that she suspected _was_ in the ballroom. She'd just made it to what she knew was a vent that led directly to the First Class Hall when there was suddenly a loud cacophony of metal and glass being broken and the ship gave a mighty lurch like some great monster had snared it. Charlotte grunted as she was flung to the side and her head cracked against the wall. For a moment she saw stars.

 _What the hell was that?!_ It felt like the ship had hit something. A collision that big would spell trouble, not only for her but for everyone on board...she'd even left Snake behind in her anger. If something had hit the ship, he might be hurt or trapped or something!

Well she couldn't tell anything from down here. Sparing a glance at the corridor, Charlotte changed gears and ran higher up. Once she'd hacked through the door she was clearly on the First Class Floor. That was when she heard people shouting and spotted some men in dark blue uniforms standing in front of what looked like an elevator crammed full of people.

"From here on is the First Class! Please stand back!" One of the men was insisting. He sounded harried and impatient. Though he hadn't noticed her, one of his subordinates had and quickly alerted him to her presence with a fearful look on his face. "What-? Who the hell are you?"

Charlotte glanced at the people in the elevator and then back at the men. "Why aren't you letting them through?"

"...there's enough panic upstairs," he said out of gritted teeth. "We can't have them running around-"

"Or you want the richer passengers to be able to reach the lifeboats first," Charlotte interrupted plainly. When he gave a startled jerk she knew she'd guessed right. "That sounds terribly unfair. So how about this, _mon marin_? Open the elevator or _I will_."

The old sailor took a step back, seemingly at war with himself, and then he turned to someone next to him and nodded. The elevator doors slid open with a loud clang and the crowd poured out, sprinting for higher and hopefully safer ground. Charlotte grabbed one before she could get far, a young woman with pale hair and wide green eyes, and asked her, "while you were down there did you see a man with scales and snakes?"

"I didn't see anything like that but I did see two strange men. They both had mechanical instruments that I'd never seen before."

 _More Reapers,_ Charlotte scowled. God she hoped Snake was safe. He didn't do well in the cold, and neither did the others. Feeling a little helpless, Charlotte sent up a prayer to whoever was listening...at least let him be okay...

...and then a hearse pulled by skeletal horses and driven by a corpse raced by. Charlotte's head whipped around to follow it, her eyes widening in shock. Time slowed as she caught sight of a very familiar insignia painted on the side of the pitch-black wagon.

" _Ce bâtard_ ," Charlotte ground her teeth together.

"Now, now Lottie-dearest," he tutted disapprovingly from behind her. Charlotte turned and stared at the Undertaker. He beamed back at her, looking just like he always did, from the top of his ludicrous hat to hems of his rumpled black robes. "Is that any way to talk about your father? And after I gave you such a useful gift too. Oh but look at you, my little spider~. You're a mess!"

"I-" The words caught in her throat. The Undertaker ambled closer and gently wiped the blood from her cheeks and neck, humming a soft lullaby. For a moment Charlotte forgot her anger and betrayal. She felt like a child again, taking comfort from the familiar scent of chemicals and the feel of rough cotton against her face. Her eyes prickled and she sniffed. "Papa, I-"

"There, there dearest~," he cooed. "It's been scary, hasn't it~? I guess these ones were no good."

"...what?"

"Hm? Oh, I was just thinking that this experiment was a bust~," he chuckled and patted her head. Something that used to make Charlotte feel warm and fuzzy suddenly made her feel small and inferior. "When we get back I'll try again~. Hopefully it'll work better next time."

Unable to bear it anymore, Charlotte pulled away from him. The Undertaker cocked his head, his hand still hovering in mid-air as he regarded his pseudo-daughter. Her fists were clenched so tightly he could almost hear the material grinding together. "What was the point?"

"Hm?" He lowered his hand. "The point of what?"

"This! _All of this!_ " Charlotte waved her free hand around agitatedly. " _Why would you make these things? Why would you bring them here? You even want to make more, but why?! Aren't I-_!"

 _Aren't I enough?_ The words hung like a sword between them, suspended over the ribbon that connected them. One wrong word was all it would take and still the Undertaker didn't respond. He just stood an stared at her until Charlotte's eyes stung and her vision grew blurry. She touched her cheeks and felt wetness. Tears. _Huh, so I can still cry even like this._

"Lottie-"

"Don't," her voice cracked on the word and she lowered her hand to her throat where she fingered the ribbon around her neck. Bright yellow, canary yellow, a noose tight around her throat to hide the scars of a mad scientist's work. 'An experiment' he'd said. Was that what she'd been? "Why did you even make me?" She whispered.

Charlotte felt strangled. It was painful, so goddamn painful. Why did it hurt so much? Black fabric filled her vision and she felt a cold hand touch her face. The Undertaker sounded uncharacteristically serious, so that made the two of them. "Charlotte, you're hyperventilating. You need to calm down."

 _...I do need to calm down._ This was no time to be breaking down into hysterics. For one thing, the ship was sinking and even though she technically couldn't drown, Charlotte wasn't about to swim back to the mainland. And second of all,

"I am the only one of me that can exist," Charlotte got to her feet and stared the Undertaker in the face. " _I am the only one of me that can exist._ Whatever you make, whatever monsters you animate, _I will tear them apart_."

The Undertaker watched his daughter run off and then bent down to pick up the strip of ribbon from the floor. A smile grew on his face until he began to giggle to himself. "You truly are your mother's daughter."

oOo

Ciel, Sebastian and Elizabeth watched the two Reapers as they disappeared through the ceiling. The two children heaved breaths of relief while Sebastian readjusted his suit and gloves, grimacing at a large rip in the white fabric. This butler aesthetic was definitely difficult to maintain when your employer tended to throw himself in dangerous situations on an almost day-to-day basis.

After replacing the spoiled glove, he turned back to Ciel. The young boy huffed. "We should hurry now they're gone- _hurk!_ "

"Ciel!" Elizabeth hurried over to him. The little girl had surprised the demon. He'd had no idea she was capable of such; still given just who her mother was he should have suspected as much. "Ciel, get on my back! I'll carry you!"

"Wha-!"

"Lady Elizabeth, allow me to handle that," Sebastian intervened smoothly. For some reason men found it embarrassing to be carried by women and although it would be hilarious to watch Ciel be embarrassed, as a butler and a technical adult he ought to be the one doing that. "Your leg is quite swollen young master..."

"Ciel..." Sebastian winced as Elizabeth started bawling her eyes out. Hell why were humans so emotional? Especially the small ones, they were always leaking for one reason or the other. "Ciel, do you hate me?! Am I too scary? I wanted to be cute for you!"

"What are you talking about?!"

"B-Before, y-you said you didn't want a scary wi-i-ife!" She hiccupped and sobbed. The demon sighed internally. He could be consuming the souls of the damned right now but instead he was watching a miniature-sized relationship drama unfold. Oh well, at least the reward would be worth it.

Ciel shook his head. "Th-That was in the past!" He told her in a placating manner, "and besides I should be the one apologising right now."

The girl sniffed. Her cheeks and nose were stained red. Her butter-blonde pigtails hung pin-straight at her shoulders and her garments were streaked with bloodstains. Elizabeth looked very little like the dopey airhead he'd always known and Ciel wondered how much of her he didn't know. He'd always been able to put her and his knowledge of her in a little box.

"So you'll take me as your wife?" She asked him. "You don't hate me?"

"I could never hate...!" He started and then he remembered that they had an audience in the form of a demon that was watching them as though he wished he'd brought snacks. Ciel slapped a hand over the grin forming on Sebastian's face. " _We don't have time for this! Let's just go already!_ "

"Aw," a voice mocked from the doorway. Charlotte leaned against the broken hinges with a familiar smile on her face. Snake stood next to her, looking tired but relieved. "Why stop there, Phantomhive? That was almost romantic!"

" _I'm glad you're all okay!_ Says Emily," Snake hurried into the room.

"Where's Stoker?" Ciel questioned.

"I'm sorry, he managed to get away. _Says Oscar._ "

"Not that it matters or anything," Charlotte shrugged, spinning her scythe around and around like a baton. She seemed to be in high spirits, Sebastian noted. Too high spirits actually, like her mood had done a complete 180 and instead of depressed and angry she was giddy and furious. What had happened in the time they'd been separated? "Shouldn't we be heading up to the deck before all the lifeboats are taken?"

"Right," Ciel nodded. "Let's meet up with the Marquis and Marchioness."

 **My headcanon for Sebastian (which is sort of canon I guess) is that he treats this butler thing like a game. You know how when you're playing a customizable character you gotta maintain your Aesthetic At All Times even if the outfit serves no useful function.**

" **why are u wearing that dress instead of the Armour of Unbreakability?"**

" **because the Armour of Unbreakablity ain't cute and what is the point of slaying a dragon if I don't look good while doing it"**


	25. VI Blood In the Water

**Blood In The Water**

* * *

~O~

 _The difference between my darkness and your darkness is that I can look at my own badness in the face and accept its existence while you are busy covering your mirror with a white linen sheet._

 _-C. Joybell C.-_

~O~

* * *

The upper deck of the ship was much cleaner than Charlotte had expected although that might have been due to the large waves that occasionally crashed over the hull, sending anyone unlucky enough to not be clinging to something flying over the edge.

In addition to that, it seemed as though most of the corpses had been confined to the lower floors and the ones that had managed to claw their way out into the open air had been mercilessly cut down, leaving only a few squirming stragglers that were refusing to stop moving. Most of the commotion atop the ship was concentrated around the lifeboats as people scrambled to find space aboard the small and very limited vehicles.

The Midford family had appointed themselves as the unofficial mediators and guards, efficiently ferrying the women and children aboard and then the men. Edward shoved a frantic Englishman backwards with the butt of his rapier, winding him violently. There was enough fear and panic in the air, they didn't need any more. He turned to check on his mother and father and then he spotted a welcome flash of blonde curls. " _Lizzy!_ "

"Edward!"

The siblings embraced, clinging to each other as hard as they could while the sea raged around them. Edward briefly wondered why she was only in her under-dress and Phantomhive's jacket but such questions were inconsequential at the moment and could come later. He pulled back and shot the aforementioned earl a dour look. "We'll save that lecture for later. Get in the boats before-"

"Edward, I have a favour to ask," Ciel interrupted and then he jerked a thumb at Snake. "Instead of me, let this guy on instead. I can't get on the boat just yet."

"...very well," he replied curtly.

Elizabeth darted out from behind her brother. "If Ciel's staying then so am I-!" The words were scarcely out of her mouth before she choked on them. Sebastian caught the now unconscious girl and apologised.

"It would have taken too long to explain," he said, handing her to her brother. "I'll face any consequences you may consider, however the ship is tilting heavily and it's only a matter of time before it sinks."

Edward sighed sadly. "No, I should be thanking you. I could never pull a move like that on her. What about her?"

He inclined his head in Charlotte's direction. The woman was holding Snake's hands tightly and they appeared to be exchanging heated but affectionate words.

Ciel snorted. "I couldn't get her to do anything even if I wanted to. Besides, for her this is personal. I'll leave Lizzy and Snake in your capable hands," Ciel nodded sharply and allowed Sebastian to pick him up.

"Feel free not to come back!" Edward yelled at his back. "I'll be fine not having you as a brother-in-law!"

Ciel tossed a smug smirk over his shoulder. "Then I'll be sure to come back!"

Charlotte whistled and pulled off one of her gloves, using the ruined fabric to tie the matted mass of her hair up into a bun. "Family, right? Come on, let's go deal with mine."

The ship's interior was empty although Charlotte was certain there were a few stragglers trapped or barricaded in the rooms; all were either unaware that the ship was sinking, or they were too afraid to brave the roiling horde to even attempt escape.

Well, almost all. The three of them were surprised to see a man with pale blond hair sipping red wine from a surprisingly non-shattered glass while four utterly unremarkable redshirts bore a very familiar-looking machine on their shoulders. Well the machine was the least of their problems, and Charlotte dismissed it in favour of asking, "What are you doing inside the ship? There are walking corpses everywhere."

He smirked and gestured with his glass. "There is something I want to protect, even if I have to risk my life for it. You know, these corpses are just like puppets to me. Oh!" He laughed coyly. "I suppose I've said too much."

Ciel and Sebastian shared a glance. It was one of the few times they'd ever been in agreement about anything. It was a shared moment of mutual mortification as they both lifted their arms and began to repeat the pretentiously dramatic slogan, "the complete flame in our chests..."

The Viscount paused and shot them a suspicious look over his shoulder. "...shall not be extinguished by anyone. We are..."

" _The PHOENIX!_ "

The cry rang through the empty hallway. Beside them, Charlotte pinched the bridge of her nose and exhaled a soft snicker. Oh this was not the time to dissolve into hysterics. At least the Viscount had stopped being so cryptic. "So you are comrades! I remember seeing your faces before!"

"That device!" Ciel snapped. "Can it stop the creatures?"

Druitt's eyes narrowed apprehensively. "Where did you get that information? Well no matter. Follow me and I shall show you the coming of a new age, a new society, thanks to this medicine. Fine?"

Seeing no other option, Ciel and Sebastian followed the man while Charlotte trailed after them. "This is utterly stupid," she muttered and then she stiffened at the sound of a very familiar giggle.

One of the men carrying the machine wasn't a disposable in a brown suit, but instead was a man in a black robe with long silver hair. " _Undertaker?!_ " Ciel half-squeaked, half-whispered, "What are you doing here?"

"While I was escaping I was asked to help carry this~" he giggled. "And then you did that 'phoenix' thing again."

"Never mind that!" Ciel barked, his cheeks going red. Something about this niggled at him. He glanced behind him at Charlotte, who hadn't moved once to speak to the Undertaker. Every time he'd seen them they were always affectionate with each other but now Charlotte wasn't even looking at him. Instead she stared fixedly ahead, her lips pressed together so hard they'd gone white.

Sebastian noticed the Undertaker's mile-wide smile grew smaller when he looked at her. Charlotte stormed on ahead, bumping her shoulder hard against the Viscount when he didn't move out of the way quickly enough and causing his wine to slosh out of his glass. "Let's get this pointless quest over with," she muttered.

The First Class Lounge was empty, unless you counted the few shambling walkers to be adequate company. The Viscount waved a hand and the machine was set down. "Be careful with that," he called carelessly, "it's worth more than your lives."

"Are you going to turn it on?" Ciel asked bluntly.

"Not yet," Druitt replied and lifted his head to peer up at the balconies overhead. "The cast is still incomplete. Ah!"

Stoker noticed them at the same time as the Viscount noticed him. " _You bastard!_ "

"Stoker, I was waiting for you! Welcome! Tonight your empire will collapse like Pompeii and in its place my new realm will be born! With the power of this device, a new era will be born! The one who conquered eternity will rule over all with corruption and decadence! It shall be called," here he struck a pose that was similar to that of the Aurora Society but not quite, " _The Aurora Empire!_ "

"Wow, that sounds kinda complex," a new voice chimed from overhead. The two Reapers watched the proceedings with differing levels of amusement. The one dressed entirely in scarlet revved up his scythe with a manic grin. "I'll paint him red right away!"

"What, don't you care about the device?" The Viscount held his glass above the complicated machine, stopping the Reapers in their tracks. He laughed. "Huh, so this is what real power feels like. I can win against all of you with one glass of wine!"

Sebastian grimaced. "I am growing quite irate. May I kill him?"

Ciel shook his head minutely, "No, although I do understand your feelings."

Suddenly there was a cacophonous crash of shattering glass and splintering wood as hordes of corpses suddenly poured into the lounge from every corner. Apparently there were more of them than they'd realised. Far more. "There's too many of them!"

"Viscount, turn on the machine!" Ciel yelled at the man.

"Don't call me Viscount," the man placed a hand on his chest, "instead call me Ceaser. I want to hear those words from that pretty mouth."

 _Oh no. He's crazy and a pedophile oh my goodness._ Charlotte shuddered with disgust. "I'm going to murder him if that's alright with you."

"Yes."

" _No._ "

Charlotte turned at show Sebastian a bemused look. "Demon I am literally _less likely to do anything you say_. Besides," she turned and sliced a corpse in half, "that machine's about as useful as he is. I should really just destroy it and then we can get to the real problem!"

" _Don't_ ," Ciel barked at her. "We don't know what it does yet!"

The woman laughed, loud and furious. "You don't believe me! After all this, even knowing what I am, you still don't believe what I say! _Look at me!_ "

She dived into the fray, rushing at the Viscount before anyone could stop her. The blade of her scythe came to a stop right behind his neck. He stared down at her, high on his own arrogance and imagined power. "You can't kill me! You don't know how to work the machine!"

"Look into my eyes Viscount," Charlotte replied in sharply accented French. "Does it look like I give a fuck?"

Whatever he saw in her eyes, it made his widen and sweat bead on his forehead. He swallowed hard, hyper-aware of the curved metal resting on the back of his neck. "Fine! Simply pledge allegiance to me and I'll turn it on!"

The waves of homicidal hatred were almost palpable but everyone performed the salute. Charlotte wished she had an extra set of arms so she could cover her face. "Now turn it on!" Ciel screamed.

The Viscount turned and pressed a button. The machine flashed and whizzed. Light bulbs flickered once, twice, and then the whole thing shuddered to a stop. The corpses still came. In fact they seemed to move faster.

The woman huffed and straightened up. "Oh gosh, what a twist!" She spun the scythe, nicking Druitt in the throat before stabbing a creature in the head. "Who could have foreseen this?"

"Ryan, the machine you built isn't working!" Druitt screeched as he cowered behind Charlotte and the useless chunk of metal.

Stoker looked at shocked the Viscount; however his anger wasn't directed at a surprising target. " _You fooled me?!_ "

"Ugh, enough!" The Red Reaper leapt down from the balcony, the rotating spikes of his weapon a blur as he aimed for the Viscount. Unfortunately Charlotte was in the way and it was likely the two would have died had someone not caught the blade as it came down.

The Undertaker giggled softly but it wasn't a nice sound. It was cold and eerie and as the man straightened, the men caught sight of a long cream-white _sotōba_."A Grim Reaper?!"

Charlotte stepped out from behind him, her eyes downcast as she attempted to shrug. "Surprise?"

"You _knew about this?!_ " Ciel snarled at her.

She frowned at him. "Did I know he was a Reaper? Yes? Did you really think a normal human did this?" She replied, gesturing to herself. "I am _literally_ a head on a doll's body did you _think_ this was normal?!"

"That's fair."

The Undertaker shoved the red one away and swept his robe back to reveal many more blades, all inscribed with symbols none of them could read. He flung four at Grell, sending him crashing into the ceiling. "I haven't laughed this much in some time~! This has been an amusing production and I am loathe to see it end~. However," he pushed his hair back for the first time in Ciel's memory, revealing a pair of glinting yellow-green eyes narrowed in malice. "I won't have my Lottie-dearest coming to harm."

* * *

 **Title and scene inspired by the song Blood/Water by grandsons. It is also vaguely inspired by** _ **Papaoutai**_ **by Stromae.**

 **In my headcanon (which is canon since I'm writing this) Undertaker does love Charlotte, he just loves his experiments as well and doesn't get why she's upset. To him, she and the Bizarre Dolls occupy entirely different spheres of thought but Charlotte views herself as an unwanted first attempt.**


	26. VII Irreconcilable Differences

**Irreconcilable Differences**

* * *

~O~

 _"Stab the body and it heals, but injure the heart and the wound lasts a lifetime"_

 _-Mineko Iwasaki-_

~O~

* * *

When eight was twelve her father had forced her take piano lessons. Actually forced was too strong a word, it was simply expected of her and Charlotte had been far too young and too in awe of her father to argue.

Her teacher had been a tall man with white hair pulled back into a severe knot that made his already harsh features appear even more so. In one hand he carried a briefcase filled with music pieces, and in the other a slender metal cane. Every Wednesday and Friday afternoon Charlotte would sit at the small piano in the upstairs room, her pudgy fingers doing their best to give life and sound to the sterile compositions he picked out for her. While she played he hovered at the side, twirling the cane between practiced fingers, his cold grey eyes watching gleefully for any mistakes.

Thirteen years later and Charlotte had forgotten his name, but thirteen years later her false fingers still burned with the psychosomatic sting of sharp steel cutting into her knuckles – one lash for every mistake.

During dinner parties she was expected to play for the guests and she was expected to be perfect. She remembered one particular party vividly. She had been nervous all day and it had shown even as she'd sat down on the plush stool and attempted to perform a symphony with fingers that were bruised to bleeding beneath her cornflower blue gloves.

It had been a disaster, and rather than stay and look upon the disappointed, snickering faces of the assembled guests, Charlotte had run out of the room. When she came back a few minutes later, another girl was sitting at the piano, Chopin flowing beautifully from perfect little hands. It was then Charlotte realised something that would haunt her for the rest of her life: she wasn't a person, she was an accomplishment, and not a good one.

Ironically, Charlotte considered her 'death' to be the start of her life. She imagined herself as some shackled puppet that her papa – no, the Undertaker – had come to liberate. He had sliced the strings from around her wrists and neck and taken her away from that old life. With him she was loved and truly felt like she could love in return.

She hadn't realised that love could hurt like this. None of her stories had ever warned her about this. Where was her happy ending? Didn't she deserve one? Why wasn't she ever enough for anyone?

Her chest hurt. It shouldn't have but it did. Where her heart ought to have been was clenched like someone had shoved their hand into her and yanked it out. Her emotions were bleeding out but for the life of her she couldn't bring herself to do something about it.

A lurch in her periphery startled her. One of the monsters, the Bizarre Dolls, stumbled towards her. Charlotte watched it come closer, it's mouth dangling wide open from the broken jawbones. It took another step and Charlotte saw the stitches on its leg rip, sending it crashing to the ground.

Fury filled her. This was what her papa had been making? These disgusting, inferior monsters? She was better than them! He had succeeded with her! He didn't need any more! _What had she done wrong?_

The fight, confused as it was, appeared to have broken down into a sort of three-way combat between the Reapers and Sebastian. Occasionally they would work to back the other into a corner, only for another combatant to seize an opportunity to strike. It was as confusing as it was dangerous. They all stumbled as the ship gave a sudden tilt and sank another few feet.

The Red Reaper hissed angrily. "We're out of time."

"Agreed," the blond one replied. He had lost his glasses at some point and was squinting around through the blood on his face. His eyes then landed on Charlotte, lost in her thoughts, and he grinned. "We have to end this as soon as possible!"

They rushed forward, surprising everyone by jumping past him and heading straight for Charlotte instead. Startled, the woman tried to bring up her scythe to protect herself but she wasn't fast enough.

For a moment all she could see were manic yellow-green eyes, and then they changed. The Undertaker tightened his fingers around Grell's neck, his mouth set in a grim line as he tossed the bloodstained weapon aside and pulled out several new ones. "What did I say about my Lottie~?"

"He's too fast," the blond one bit out through the intense pain; his back burned from the gash and whatever curse he'd inscribed on those stakes. "I don't get it! Death Scythes can cut through anything! This doesn't make any sense!"

The Undertaker chuckled. "Your distinctly large oversight is incredibly funny," he said. "Isn't that catchphrase a little strange? After all, it-"

He stopped suddenly, and they could see why. Charlotte trembled behind her father as she held the blade of her scythe to the Undertaker's throat. She couldn't see his face, she didn't know what sort of expression he was making. Was he shocked? Angry? Well if he was it didn't show in his voice. "Lottie, what are you doing?"

"I-I don't know," she replied shakily. "I'm just...I don't know what to do! Why did you do this? Why couldn't you have been happy with me? _What did I do wrong?!_ "

The razor was resting so close to the skin but you would have thought that meant nothing with how fast he turned his head to look at her over his shoulder. "You did nothing wrong dearest! Lottie you are perfect! I wanted you to see this! We have an army here~!" He gestured magnanimously around to the swarming hoard that was doing its best to crawl and claw no matter how hard everyone fought. "Aren't you curious~? You've always loved stories. Come with me and let's give this one a good conclusion~."

Sebastian saw the waver in her hands a second before Charlotte began lowering the weapon. "Papa, I..."

He hushed her softly and Charlotte's eyes swam when an affectionate hand landed on the top of her head. "Let's talk about it later my dear. For now, why don't we match?"

His cloak whipped around him and then flew back to reveal a large, ornate scythe with a blade of viciously sharp steel kept in blade by an ivory white skeleton. The Undertaker twirled the staff around, laughing at their stunned expressions. "What~? Did you think I retired without taking a few souvenirs~?"

It was madness from that moment onwards. It's as if the sight of that clearly opulent scythe kicked things into high gear. Charlotte knew she was a wonderful fighter, fast and flexible and unable to feel physical pain, but she couldn't go toe-to-toe with a demon.

Sebastian attacked ferociously, a whirl of black and silver knives. Scythes were good for long-range melee attacks, he had to get closer to the reaper without getting sliced to pieces. Undertaker blocked them, his grin never leaving his face as he sussed out Sebastian's plan. "You think of some interesting strategies~. Very well, so will I!"

Charlotte wasn't sure how but in a second her father was suddenly holding Phantomhive by the collar of this shirt, using a veritable red flag in the face of a rampaging bull. To her surprise, Sebastian charged without thinking. The expression on his face didn't look like anything she'd seen before (granted she barely knew him and most of her interactions with him had been about what a weird annoyance she was).

But then Ciel was falling out of the way and there was so much blood spilling out from the demon's back. Cinematic reels spilled out of the gash, hundreds and thousands of slides that she could barely catch.

Her papa wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her forward, grabbing one of the bright ropes and bringing it closer. "Behold Lottie – the life of a demon~!"

But it wasn't. It was the life of a little boy filled with so much hatred that he'd bound his soul to hellspawn just to get vengeance on the people who had hurt him so brutally. She saw Ciel Phantomhive through Sebastian's eyes but without his thoughts, saw the signs of abuse on his body and the cold steel in his eyes.

What did her own trauma matter in the face of something like that?

The moment hung suspended like a particularly macabre work of art, and then it was over and the demon crashed against the falling child, catching Phantomhive in his arms and landing semi-safely on the other side of the tilting balcony. The Undertaker snickered and glided forward, his arm sliding off Charlotte's shoulders and leaving her cold and sick.

"I knew you'd be able to protect the earl," her papa hummed softly, twirling the scythe like a baton, his eyes never leaving the prone demon. "However judging from those records I'd say you make his life pretty miserable after all. So I think I'll just remove you from the equation-!"

Eyes widened as everyone took in the sharp blade jutting out from the Undertaker's chest. It connected to a long, silver chain attached to a black staff held by a girl who just wanted everything to be over one way or another.

The Undertaker stared at her, his daughter, with wide eyes. "Charlotte...?"

Before anyone could react to this, the ship gave a mighty groan and began to shake. Their time was up; the Campania was sinking and sinking fast.

Sometime between their confusion, the Undertaker vanished. Charlotte watched the heavy blade of her scythe fall to the ground and then retract back into its original position with the press of a button. There was something around the hook; a silver locket with an ornate engraving that Charlotte had never seen before.

There was silence, and then the blond reaper spoke up. "I...am so confused."

"It was drama that would even rival the great bard's works," Sebastian grit out the sentiment and then spat blood. "Now then, can we pick this up another time? Preferably when we're not all aboard a sinking vessel?"

Charlotte fingered the locket, tossing it up and down contemplatively. The bright blue stone in the centre glinted a familiar blue and she tossed it to Ciel. "Keep it safe," she told him curtly, "he probably would have wanted you to have it."

To his credit, Ciel only fumbled once before catching it. He eyed Charlotte thoughtfully, but this wasn't the time or place to make snap decisions. "We'll discuss this later."

The weapon in her hand disintegrated into dust and she just smiled. "Yes, I know."

 **I do want ya'll to know that trauma isn't a competition. If something terrible happens to you there's no need to justify it by saying "well this happened to someone else so my pain doesn't matter" because it does and you don't have to one-up or downgrade your own feelings.**

 **Also Charlotte's piano teacher was based on something that happened to me in school. My handwriting used to suck so whenever I couldn't write properly the teacher used to hit my fingers, which ironically only made my writing worse like bitch wyd?**


	27. Intermission! Soleil et Étoile

**Intermission Three! Soleil et Étoile**

* * *

~O~

 _All that is important is this one moment in movement. Make the moment important, vital, and worth living. Do not let it slip away unnoticed and unused._

 _-Martha Graham-_

~O~

* * *

Undertaker raised his head at the quietly familiar screech of a needle on vinyl, followed by a whoop of delight. Smiling bemusedly, he dropped the arm he'd been sewing in place and made his way out of the back room of the mortuary. The windows were wide open, something he hadn't quite gotten used to yet but had become a regular occurrence in the evenings. Sunlight was important, his Lottie always insisted, even if you were a retired centuries old death god.

At any rate he'd developed an appreciation for the warm summer sunsets. The windows of the mortuary faced west and formed a golden backdrop for the scene that met him as he pushed the door aside and stepped into the front room. Charlotte twirled around the coffins, her hair flying out behind her. A lady's torso – and only that, his daughter still had issues with stitching necks and always left it to the last minute – acted as her partner as she performed an energetic waltz to the music.

The Undertaker's eyes landed on the gramophone resting on top of a coffin, jaunty notes pouring out from the brass horn as the black disc continued to spin round and round. He didn't recognise the song but then he didn't pay much attention to the fashions. Trends flew by so quickly when you were practically immortal and also dead.

His daughter – not by blood mind you – skipped between the chaotic mess that was the front-room. It made his already wide smile grow. It had been several years since he'd adopted her (inasmuch as you could adopt someone who was already an adult and also not your biological child and also a bit dead and was supposed to be an experiment into the structure of the human soul, but that was just semantics really).

He hadn't realised how much he'd lacked in terms of meaningful social contact until she had walked in on him eating raw cookie dough and laughed so hard one of her legs had fallen off. Sure he liked jokes, but he'd never made someone else laugh. It was...a nice feeling.

Lottie performed one more spin and then her eyes landed on him and went wide. The Undertaker's grin widened and transformed into a loud cackle when she then tripped, and fell to the ground with a loud shriek. "Papa! How...How long were you watching?"

"Long enough~" he giggled and pulled her to her feet effortlessly. Charlotte pouted up at him, her cheeks pink with embarrassment. Smirking, he squished her face between his palms. "Don't make that face Lottie-dearest! You know if you pull faces they'll get stuck that way~."

In response Charlotte pulled a hideous expression that involved rolling her eyes all the way to the back of her head and grinning in the most unsettling way she could. "Will you still love me if I look like this Papa?" The Undertaker's resulting belly-laugh could be heard all around the neighbourhood, which wasn't new but Charlotte's presence made it a more common occurrence. Every time he tried to stop giggling she just pawed at his arm, pulling another terrible face each time. "Papa, look at me! Look at me Papa! Am I still beautiful? Tell me I'm beautiful Papa!"

Snickering, the Undertaker caught her under his cloak, smothering her there while she squealed and tried to struggle free. "I don't know who this is. Where is my daughter~? It's a mystery~!"

Charlotte flailed within the voluminous and space-defying confines of his robes, giggling between every word. "Papa, it's me! Let me out!"

He pretended to think about it, humming loudly to himself. "I don't know~. My daughter has pretty blue eyes and blonde hair~. Do you have those~?"

"Yes!" A second later her head popped out right below his chin. Her hair was now completely out of its bun, a wild mess of previously pin-straight locks. Smiling a more genuine smile that she couldn't see, the Undertaker rested his chin atop the soft mass and hummed along to the song that was slowly drawing to a close.

"Where did you find that~?" He asked her curiously.

"An antique shop was selling it at half price. Apparently it's cursed or something." He could almost hear how hard Lottie was rolling her eyes. "The music came with it too. They're just old songs, nothing contemporary, but they are fun to dance along too." The gramophone went silent for a moment before a new song started playing. It was slower than the last but it matched the quieting mood between them.

The sky outside was growing dimmer. The sun had dipped behind the buildings in the distance, only a dim orange ringed by a pale halo of green left as the late hour heralded the beginning of the night. The two stood there, watching a curtain of stars drape across the sky while the notes played.

 **Short chapter, I'm sorry I wanted to do two but I have to write an English essay and the ppt to go with it. Hopefully I'll be able to write the next chapter tomorrow or on Sunday!**


	28. I Roses and Cypress

**Roses and Cypress**

The ship sank.

It sank, of course it sank. Even if one could somehow ignore the flesh-devouring monsters that had eaten approximately half the passengers and crew including the captain, there was also the unfortunate fact that the liner had also crashed into a gigantic iceberg.

Charlotte and the Phantomhives watched the giant ship sink below the waves like a dying beast still sending out red sparks and fiery blooms from where the living were attempting to shoot out emergency flares. The lights reflected off the surface of the inky water that thrashed beneath them, churning with the waves and the monsters still hidden within. Suddenly a slimy white hand shot out and groped about for the side of the boat. With a huff, Sebastian briefly released the oars and hacked the offending limb off at the elbow.

"So..." Ciel started after a very long moment of silence. "Are we going to discuss anything that just happened?"

"No," Charlotte replied absentmindedly. "I think I'll just repress this as hard as I can and never think about it until one day I'll burst and some halfwit doctor will diagnose me with Female Hysteria, after which I will murder him in a fit of madness and be placed in an asylum where I will write a bestselling novel and become someone's fancy attraction."

The demon let out a snort that might have been an aborted snicker while the boy pressed his lips together. "As fascinating as that sounds Charlotte, no one is waiting that long."

Charlotte's eyes flickered. Her lips tipped up in a sad smile. "No...I suppose not." She touched her neck and flinched when she felt the rough seam where the skin met the porcelain. Her ribbon was gone and with it went her family. Her father, the only one who had ever loved her unconditionally, who had given her a whole new life and asked for nothing in return...

At least the blood and saltwater kept the tears from being seen.

"Why are we talking about me anyway?" She rolled her eyes and gestured widely in Sebastian's direction. "Didn't _he_ get cut in half or something?"

"Or something," Sebastian agreed with a wry smile.

"He's fine," Ciel replied impatiently, and then he added a belated, "Good job by the way."

"Yes, good job Mephistopheles," Charlotte leaned over and patted him on the shoulder a little harder than was strictly necessary. "I suppose I do forgive you for getting my team members murdered that one time."

Sebastian refrained from wincing as her fingers dug into the exposed sinews that hadn't quite finished healing and simply gave her a wide, close-mouthed smile. "Thank you Miss Charlotte. I live for your approval."

"Speaking of things worth living for," Ciel interrupted loudly, "what is this?" He held up the locket that had been left behind. It was heavy and made of a silver alloy. Each circular piece was carved with swirls and flowering vines. It was clear that a lot of work had gone into crafting it and even more care had gone into handling it.

Charlotte shrugged and fiddled with her fingers. "It's a mourning locket. Papa used to wear it under his cloak all the time so I've only seen it a few times. I don't know who any them are for though"

The boy pressed his lips together and ran his fingers along the edges for the switch. The lockets clicked open very easily which was somewhat anticlimactic after what they'd done to get it. Charlotte scooted closer to peer into it and even Sebastian leaned over curiously.

Inside each locket was a small picture of a person along with some memento tucked with them. There were locks of hair; brittle now from the lack of moisture and oils, and one of them was even dotted with drops of blood. Ciel wrinkled his nose and pressed that one shut. Then his eyes landed on the next one and he froze.

 _Claudia P. 13_ _th_ _July 1866_

Inside the locket, a lady's face with sharp, knowing eyes smiled up at him from beneath a snip of auburn hair. Ciel knew he had never seen this face before, but still it felt familiar. There was something in the knowing glint in the eyes and the curl of the smile. Then he realized the source of those feelings and it was as if someone had punched him in the chest. What was his _grandmother's_ name doing amidst this string of names? What connection did she have to the Undertaker? What link did his family have to this rogue reaper?!

"-iel? Ciel?" He jumped and looked up at Charlotte. She wasn't looking at him. Her eyes were on the horizon, turning bright and orange with the rising sun. They could see the other boats floating in the water, safe from the bloated corpses that now floated visibly in the brightening light.

The knowledge that they had prevented more casualties made his breaths come a little easier. "What?" He replied.

She said nothing for a moment, and then she asked, "...do you think the Viscount survived?"

" _God I fucking hope not._ "

* * *

oOo

* * *

"I knew you should have let Sebastian go check," Charlotte ranted five days later over breakfast. "I knew we should have made sure! We could have had it all!"

Sebastian hummed as he set a teacup in front of the earl and then in front of Charlotte. "It was a terrible maiden voyage, wasn't it?" He said, also setting out a tray of cakes. The woman blinked down at it in surprise. Usually she had to make herself an absolute nuisance before the demon deigned to give her snacks.

Ciel huffed. Terrible was an understatement. He flipped through the rest of the paper but there wasn't anything of interest. There was an interview with an artist, a sensation piece about a foreign businessman, a drug bust in the East End. It seemed that while tragedy occurred, life continued as always for others. That was both depressing and somewhat heart-warming. He huffed and pushed the paper away. Charlotte snatched it up, skipping immediately to the entertainment pages.

"At least life seems to have returned to normal," Sebastian said, refilling his teacup.

"Normal huh?" Ciel scoffed and took a sip of his tea. It was black with a splash of milk and more sugar than was probably healthy. It was perfect. Still, it wasn't enough to quell the thoughts that had taken up residence in his mind since the moment he'd opened the locket. In addition to that... "exactly what is normal about _this?_ "

Charlotte and Sebastian blinked at him bemusedly. Atop their heads rested colourful bunny ears sticking straight up into the air. Charlotte cocked her head, causing one ear to fold over. "I have no idea what you mean. Sebastian?"

"Yes young master, everything seems to be in order. What are you referring to?"

" _I hate the two of you._ Why are you both wearing rabbit ears?"

"Oh, these!" Sebastian nodded, causing both ears to fold over. He readjusted them primly. "Well since it is Easter, Elizabeth insisted that we get into the spirit of things by wearing festive clothing."

That made sense. After Elizabeth had recovered from the ordeal – with zero trauma apparently – she'd gone into a frenzy trying to prepare for Easter. Today the entire mansion was filled with noises from whatever she was doing upstairs. Grimacing, Ciel finished his tea and stood up. "Well let's go see what she's doing."

The sounds of merriment grew louder as Sebastian led him to one of the parlour rooms. Ciel braced himself for whatever pastel monstrosity was beyond those doors but even with that he wasn't prepared for the riot of colours and shouts that greeted him.

"Ciel!" Elizabeth flew at him and he had to hold himself from flinching backwards. She was dressed in a bright pink ensemble that had more ruffs and ribbons than were needed. She was also wearing a pair of bunny ears. Actually, everyone was wearing them. It was vaguely terrifying, mostly it was just creepy.

His eyes landed on Prince Soma and Agni and widened. "Why are you here?!"

The prince grinned widely. He was dressed in a white tunic with gold accents that matched the sash over Agni's shoulder. "We may have a different faith but we can still celebrate with friends! What is Easter about anyway?"

Sebastian opened his mouth to answer but Charlotte slapped a hand over his face. " _Si vous répondez à cette question, je vais mourir d'ironie. donc fermes là bouche_ ," she hissed before directing a huge grin at the prince. "Easter is a time when we celebrate the Christian religious figure that died and rose from the dead three days later! We eat foods with lots of eggs, sugar and milk, and play lots of games!"

"And, and!" Elizabeth jumped in excitedly. "It's also a time when we all get new clothes and shoes!"

"Well said little miss!" A woman Charlotte had never seen before appeared. She was tall, with glasses, and most surprising of all: she was wearing shorts and long stockings. Charlotte blinked at the woman's legs and then at her own. "I, Nina Hopkins, will unveil my brand new spring designs!"

Ciel scowled. "This is so unnecessary..."

"Too late, it's already happening!" Nina cackled wildly, producing a stack of clothes wrapped in brown paper seemingly out of nowhere. "Now get changed!"

In the end, even Ciel was forced into a suit. The boy grimaced and adjusted the ruffled collar. There were flowers sewn into the pocket and the band of the hat. He felt like a walking botany experiment. At least Elizabeth looked happy about it though. She squealed and bounced up and down. "Everyone looks so cute! Wait," she frowned, "where's Charlotte?"

Nina stopped flirting with a blushing Mey-Rin to glance at the impromptu changing room. "Oh, well I didn't have her measurements so she's probably having trouble putting on the suit."

"'The suit?'" Edward repeated with a frown just as the door opened and Charlotte stepped out.

If Ciel had seen Charlotte like this upon their first meeting, he would have believed she was male. She was wearing a cream-coloured double-breasted waistcoat over a white shirt. Her suit blazer was dark black with a yellow flower sewn into the pocket and around her neck was a black bowtie with a matching yellow rose. Her long hair had been tied back into a low ponytail that hung past her waist.

In that get-up she could pass for either an incredibly pretty boy. Ciel had a flashback to the time he had to dress as a girl and almost broke out in disgusted hives. He took several deep breaths to push away the looming spectre of a panic attack and came back to himself in time to hear Edward yelling something about improper dressing.

"I think she looks great!" Elizabeth defended staunchly. "You look very handsome Charlotte!"

"Aw, thank you Lizzy!" Charlotte beamed at her. "And you look extremely pretty!"

A pleased gasp, "thank you! Let's get this egg hunt started!" Elizabeth placed a basket of colourful eggs on the table. They were all painted in a myriad of bright hues and decorated with little gems and concertinas. "Ciel, look at this one! Doesn't it bring back fond memories!"

The boy froze for a second, "uh, yeah..." he quickly turned around and marched away, calling out for Sebastian to hide the eggs. He didn't see the smile drop from Elizabeth's face, replaced by confusion and then disappointment.

Still she bounced back and grabbed another egg from the basket. "I just had an idea! This is the egg I made, so how about we have the winner be whoever finds this egg? I just know you'll find my egg first though, won't you Ciel?"

"It wasn't meant to be a competition in the first place..."

Suddenly the window smashed open as something, or someone came flying in. A man dressed entirely in white stood smirking in the midst of the broken window. "This sounds interesting! We'd like to join in!"

" _Earl Grey?_ " Ciel screeched.

Charlotte eyed the shattered glass wonderingly. "Was the door not an option or something?"

Sebastian let out an imperceptibly quiet sigh. "Why are the Queen's personal butlers here?"

"Just a delivery from Her Majesty," Phipps appeared with a basket tied with ribbons. Inside it were more painted eggs. "A gift for the earl."

Grey grinned at Ciel. "If we're having a competition then I want to participate too!" Then he caught sight of Charlotte and Sebastian and his brow furrowed. "I could have sworn you died. And aren't you a woman?"

"I am an existential threat in a flesh suit."

"Your concern is touching, Earl Grey," Sebastian smiled benignly as he herded Charlotte away. "You're not even made of meat," he muttered to her as he pushed her towards Elizabeth.

"He doesn't know that though," Charlotte replied. "Can we start this egg hunt now?"

"Not quite," Sebastian turned to face the intruders, "considering the nature of the players, why don't we establish a new rule?" He picked up an unpainted, uncooked egg and held it up. "Each team will be given an egg and a ladle. Members can exchange eggs with the ladles but any team with a broken egg will be immediately disqualified. How does that sound?"

The teams were divided as such: Ciel and Sebastian, Prince Soma and Agni, Nina and Edward, Snake and Finny, Bard and Mey-Rin, and finally the two interlopers. Charlotte pouted. "Aw, does that mean I can't participate? Lizzy, you're not playing?"

Elizabeth's eyes widened. "You want to team up with me? Mr. Tanaka hid the eggs so I don't know where any of them are."

"I don't want to team up with you to cheat," Charlotte grinned. "I just think you're a lot more skilled than you let on. We'll give everyone here a run for their money, won't we?"

Elizabeth Midford had always been a competitive girl. She'd hidden it beneath the veneer of demure maidenly manners but now with Charlotte holding out a hand to her, she felt her blood stir for the excitement of a good fight. She grinned. "Let's do it!"

Across the room Edward winced and Ciel covered his face. "This was a mistake"

"On your mark!" Tanaka called out. "Get ready! _Go!_ "

* * *

 **Sorry for the delay. I like Kuroshitsuji, I do, but I had to take time away from it because as interesting as it is, it uses so many gross tropes. From** _ **queer people are all creepy molesters who don't understand consent**_ **(Grell, Nina, practically every villain), pedophilia (the Sebastian x Ciel subtext, practically every villain again, Nina again), rape as a backstory etc.**

 **It's 2018 and this is the year of loving yourself and your emotional health!**

 **Also, while looking for a title for this chapter I found out that there is a spider shaped like a rabbit and I feel the need to personally ask God why this was allowed.**


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